


But not for me

by Qtya



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gore, Hurt/Comfort, Many terrible chapters, Not really Red Hood Jason, Redemption-kindof...., What would happen if your story ends before your life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-23 19:37:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 45,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9673061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qtya/pseuds/Qtya
Summary: Something horrible happens to Jason, and this time it is really, honestly not his fault.But he ends up as the one, who has to coexist with the consequences.Now....what will this do to the family?How will he deal with it?What would you do when your story ends before your life?And the remnanst are not wanted. Not even by yourself.I am not lying: this will be a dark and hard one, Jason will be broken, never getting back everything he lost, but....because of certain reasons, this story will have a happy end.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Be careful, "Gore" is there among the tags with a good reason! 
> 
> Seriously....pay attention to my warnings, okay? I promise I will not write the most gruesome stories at AO3 ever, but I don't want enyone to end up triggered because of this. 
> 
> English is not my native, I don't have a beta, so...mistakes are mine! Sorry for them, please be understanding, etc etc.

Twenty and five. And maybe a half more.   
Days.  
Couldn't be counted as a huge amount of time.   
Still, Tim Drake felt a certain dread, cold and merciless, in him.   
He travelled through the city as fast as he could, fighting against his own fears. He feared what was waiting for him. 

But the time....it hadn't been even a whole month!   
So....it couldn't be that bad....Couldn't be. Couldn't be. 

Earlier that day, when Damian and Tim had started to get ready for patrol, Dick stumbled into the Cave. Their oldest brother had looked like a zombie. Dick had been pale, his eyes glassy, and when he'd noticed the boys staring at him, he'd fallen to his knees and covered his eyes with his hands.   
It had been a struggle to make him speak.   
And when Dick had told them everything....Tim had had a desperate ache in him for all that horror to be just a nightmare. Magic.   
Anything, just not...real. 

 

 

Twenty and five and a half days before Jason had killed again. The victim had been brutally murdered, there had been -horrified- witnesses to later tell the truth: Red Hood had done it.   
And it hadn't made any sense.   
The poor guy had been a pathetic dealer, quite close to starving to death, never really selling much, never selling the serious stuff, and he had never been close to break the laws of the Red Hood.   
Only hours after that there had been five more murders. All of them just like the first.   
And all of them the Red Hood's doing. 

Dick had caught him. Close to dawn he had found Jason in one of his safehouses, sleeping peacefully. Like nothing had happened.   
Blind with rage the oldest beat the shit out of Jason right in that moment, not waiting for the other to wake up, not bothering to think about how unfair their fight had been and never giving him a chance to say even a word. Well, not giving him a chance to protect himself either.   
Jason had been dumped like trash to Arkham. 

And they all had started to...get over the whole horror. Somehow. 

 

Two weeks later the killing had restarted.   
And Jason hadn't broken out from Arkham. 

It had been one of the most messed-up cases they ever had to solve.   
Because soon they had to find out that there had been a whole group of killers, all of them dressed like the original Red Hood, using that as the perfect cover.   
And they had been mad. Killing for money, killing for drugs, killing for fun.....  
There had been nights when forty people had died....Most of them harmless nobodies.  
This group had never tried to go for the richest part of the city. They hadn't even wished for anything really big.   
They had stayed quite close to the poor people, and killed. 

In the end, with the whole family's nonstop hunt, with desperate efforts, with damned fights, the murderers had been stopped.   
Damian had got three new scars, one of them a nasty bulletwound.   
Steph had started a personal war against alleys with too many dumpsters in them.   
Babs had fought with them for three days like a witch until they replaced (or in some cases: placed) cameras to certain parts of the city.   
Tim....had wished to forget. 

And then one day they'd all realized that there had been something else, the one thing everybody had forgotten about during the bloodbath's weeks.   
Jason. 

Dick had gone endless round after endless round to explain the situation to any kind officer, authority, unicorn, but Nightwing suddenly claiming that the first Red Hood he himself had brought in shouldn't have been captured....

After a long procedure, a very long and complicated procedure, they had won. 

And after twenty and five and a half days, a quite nervous Dick had gone to recollect their innocently (oh God, the day had come to say such a thing about Jason?!) imprisoned brother from Arkham, probably beg for his forgiveness and....hope he hadn't gone totally crazy during his time there. 

But Dick hadn't come home after that, and both Tim and Damian had started to get ready earlier than usual, planning to check on the situation before anything else.

 

Then Dick had arrived.   
And everything had changed. 

 

He had found Jason in his cell. Sure. But it had been one of the worst minutes of his life. 

Jason hadn't been alone in there all the time, it'd seemed......  
At first sight, Dick had been sure that Jason had died...again....alone in Arkham. And it had torn him apart from the inside. 

Jason had been tortured. There had been blood everywhere in his cell.   
Both of his legs had been shattered into pulp, cuts, bruises covered every inch of his skin, his face had been so swollen, without his hair he wouldn't have been recognizable. 

He had been sitting close to the wall, unconscious, and one of his hands had been nailed to the wall to keep him there. 

A giant, sick smile had been drawn next to him, with his own blood. 

Dick had fought the urge to vomit, to scream, to search the Joker and kill him. He had to fight the urge to kill himself as well. 

 

Jason had been taken to Gotham Memorial, and when Dick had realized that nothing'd left for him there, he'd dragged himself home. 

 

 

While Tim was flying through their cursed city, his heart aching with each throb, he couldn't shake his dread. Dread because of what Dick yelled after him as a last sentence, when he started running away and he didn't turn back when Dick called. 

Dick screamed that there was more. Something horrible. Something Tim couldn't be ready for.


	2. Please, please, please, no, not this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding a brother, only to see clearly how you gonna loose him in the future....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so WARNING WARNING WARNING: you will see now why Jason won't be Red Hood in this fic. And maybe understand why this will be a work filled with angst.  
> Yes, this will be a story taking everyone to undiscovered waters - but I don't think this is an AU.  
> Sorry for those who leave this adventure now, I don't think this will be boring, but I understand if you don't think you will find here what you wish for. 
> 
> Now I have momentum, so I write. I won't do uploading regurarly, sorry. 
> 
> One more thing: I am new in this fandom, so I cannot guarantee everything will be perfect. But I am forever thankful for AO3 and all the amazing writers here for introducing it. (Yes, I really learned about...for example Jason's existence here!)

Tim slipped into the room through the window without a single sound, and immediately crawled into the nearest shadow, keeping his eyes on the open door.  
Only when he was sure nobody saw his entering and nobody was coming down the corridor he could relax a tiny bit and let himself turn to Jason.  
And his blood turned to ice in an instant.  
This. Could. Not. Be. Him.

He stepped out from his hiding spot with a numb soul and after a heartbeat started moving slowly closer, totally on autopilot.  
Something Batman would lecture him for without an end...  
But...this was too much....this could not have been real!  
After one single meter of nearing the bed, his horror stopped his movements. He just stared and stared with wide eyes.  
No...No, no, no, no, no...Please, no....

 

He forced his feet to move, forced himself closer, forced his eyes to look, to read every detail with precision, forced himself to....accept.  
Because it was Jason for real. 

And Tim was sure about a heart-breaking, gut-wrenching thing after a second: from this condition not even Jason would come back the way he had done always. Always. 

The older boy's body was covered in bandages, and the usual white sheet of a hospital. And Tim needed the soft beepeing sounds from the various machines nearby to know that Jason was still alive at least, because his face was bruised and under that paler than the wiped-clean-even-from-life-whiteness around him.  
His face was sooo white and so still...Tim hesitantly moved his hand to touch Jason's, the one with the wires in it....(The other was wrapped up to his elbow so thickly it didn't even look like a hand, more like a giant, grotesque puppet.)  
He was as delicate as he could be, after taking off his glove. Only the tip of his index touched the other's skin, softly, carefully, so-so slowly, and Tim stepped back right after with a gasp. 

Why was Jason so cold?? And why was he so alone? Shouldn't be there a doctor, a nurse, anyone to make sure he wouldn't die, wouldn't need help in case of waking, wouldn't need some information or comfort from this goddamnd world? Or wouldn't freeze to death?!

And how could this happen to him?? 

For God's sake, he looked like a dying person, one which was left to die!

Worry and weakened nerves slowly gave place to anger, which he quickly supressed because that was not something the situation needed. And then anger morphed into impatience. He needed to do something! Anything! Right now!  
For Jason.  
And with that thought he could pull himself together finally.  
Yes, Jason needed him. Tim realized this and the weight of it more and more with every passing second. He couldn't do much for the other if he couldn't stop himself from getting lost in emotions. No. He needed to think clearly. He needed to focus!  
He needed to be...his usual self.  
And do what needed to be done perfectly.  
So, first of all the task was: figuring out what's going on, finding more information....and probably a blanket. Or three.  
He turned to the end of Jason's bed, looking for his papers, hoping for the last exam's results...and Tim froze on his spot again.

Jason's left leg was missing. His sheet ended covering him on his left side not much under his hipbone.  
He was so focused on Jason's face after arrival, and then so wrapped up in his very own shock, that he only discovered this horror then!!!!!!  
For a second he only felt his very own heart bursting and cold emptiness choking him. He coughed once or twice and fought desperately against histerics.  
If anyone would have happened to come in then, he could have seen Red Robin, on all four, down on the floor, shaking.  
Even Tim couldn't tell if it was laughter, a crazy one, or sobbing, a smothery one, or pure madness pressing him down there.  
This was too much.  
He couldn't do anything against the feeling. And a ruthless thought: Jason would not survive this. 

He had made it back from the dead, and after that he fought for justice, for innocents (even if his own way) for long. Many times totally alone, with really messed-up chances to win. Sometimes with really messed-up chances to make it to the other day......

But being disabled would kill him for real, and Tim was shattered by this undeniable fact. 

When Jason would finally awake, Tim was sure, this would break him.  
The Joker won, at the end. The murderous clown could laugh on the horrors he caused until the end.


	3. Parting ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special kind of goodbye
> 
>  
> 
> (I think I forgot to mention before that Tim will be a really important character in this)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kind of messed this one up. But don't worry, later things will get clear.   
> And I think I still like the power of it. Although I don't know if you will be able to see it.

Let's just say that when Tim came home after that night, the air was tense in the Cave. It had a special weight within. Something was about to change. 

Dick and Damian stood next to each other, watching him. Tim didn't even glanced their way.   
He dressed quickly into something civilian, then shoved all his stuff into a duffel bag.   
And that was the sign which his family didn't want to see.

Not after figuring out the two-billion-dollar-question.  
(What could be worse than Damian on a bad day? An anxious Damian, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to help his favourite brother, not finding a way to get rid of his growing frustration. And Dick couldn't help this time...Couldn't. He went to his room, and even sent Damian away with a broken voice when the younger wanted to join him in his misery.)

Not after a horrendous call from Babs.   
After his visit in the hospital, Tim had went out and beat the shit out of any poor bastard that had happened to do (or try to do) something crime-like in his lign of sight. After the fifth thief's arrival in the ER, Oracle had called Tim. And Red Robin answered with all his scary power in his voice, all his cold logic, not showing any sign of pain. He had told the whole hellish story to his big sister in his own way: pushing the girl far-far away, keeping the whole conversation business-like.  
And Oracle was Oracle with a reason. She had understood Tim perfectly.   
So, after their conversation, she had called the manor.   
Dick had felt heartbroken and hated himself until then. After Barbara's (that yelling hadn't had anything to do with the professional Oracle) call, he felt like his very soul ended up as ash. The girl hated him mostly for not telling a thing about Jason's case at all – as a start. 

One of the family's biggest problem was always thinking automatically that their mighty Oracle just knew everything.   
Even for a superhuman that would be impossible. 

Oracle herself had known that Jason had been imprisoned, but never had she dreamed that Jason had been thrown to Arkham. And she had been absolutely sure that after the killing had restarted, someone had gone for Jason immediately.   
So...she had a really good reason to hate herself as well now.   
(Nobody ever could figure out how much she understood Jason. How she felt for the Joker's life never being even threatened. For everything.   
She didn't go against Batman for that, but she...couldn't despise Jason for his thoughts either. Wouldn't. Ever.   
Feeling like this was a thing why she truly appreciated her Watchtower. The distance she would have thanks to it. Distance from the Batman, from the drama in the family, distance from the fights with Jason.)  
Batgirl had got the news from Oracle. She only had messaged that she wouldn't come back to the manor, but staying with Babs. In her case at least it would be for getting over her own breaking down. 

 

Let's just say Dick didn't want to see Tim preparing to leave. Both he and Damian had really...waited for his homecoming. Wanted to know what he had seen in the hospital. Wanted to know how he felt.   
Even without words the answer was pretty clear. 

\- Tim – he started carefully, with pain in his voice.  
\- No. Not now – barked the younger a cold answer.   
\- But we...just...  
\- Dick – Tim finally turned to look at him, at them, but his eyes were frightening. Even Damian stiffened, next to Dick. All of them in the family and in the teams ever working with them knew well that Tim had some inhuman coldness in himself. But he had never unleashed that part of himself. Until this very day.   
His eyes were colder than the Batman's ever.  
\- Look, Dick, I don't know what to talk about – he sighed after a few really uncomfortable sceonds.  
\- I just...I want to know...can we talk about...what to do? - asked Dick, fidgeting in his place. Fuck, his little brother was scary!   
\- I think there is not much to talk about – Tim's voice started to become as cold as his eyes.   
\- You know...that I never wanted this, right? - Dick's voice was now all about begging. For forgiveness. What nobody could give him....And he knew this. He had to know.  
\- I know – said Tim a little bit softer, but he turned away from Dick, checking his bag once again – Not one of us wanted this. And you know it.   
Tim picked up his bag and turned to the stairs.  
\- Wait! - Dick was now alarmed – Where are you going? Why are you leaving?  
\- I will collect what I need from my room. And then I will go back to my apartment. It's closer to the hospital – came the cool answer, as Tim started walking.   
\- But...  
\- Look, Dick – Tim suddenly turned, and his cold eyes were back on full force – I really don't want to talk right now. Because there is nothing to talk about. If Jason survives, I don't know what will he end up being. Probably nothing good. Maybe the better thing will be, for him, to die. These are the facts. We cannot do anything about it. So I don't see the point of talking. That won't help. To be honest, we all know that nothing will help.   
Both Dick and Damian were gaping at him by then. But he went on, a little bit softer, turning his eyes to the Cave's darkness:  
\- The thing is....I want to stay close to him. Whatever happens.....I just want to be there for him. Even if we don't have much time left. I remember everything he did. I know. But he was my Robin, sorry Dick, but this this is the truth. And after I understood everything what had been done to him...I just couldn't hate him. I really don't know what a human being can turn into if such things happen to them. I cannot even speculate about it. Chances that anyone would loose themselves into madness? I would say they are pretty high. And when I lost Robin – a quick, dangerous glance to Damian – I started to really get it. And after that? He got better, left most of the Pit's madness behind, and I started to work with him. And we solved a few difficult cases during that time, believe me. And whatever we are, Jason and I, the only thing which feels right now is to be with him.  
Tim sighed once, forced himself to take a huge breath and finished:  
\- We are all guilty in this Dick. Don't follow Bruce's way to think it's only your fault, and then hold onto that stupid idea like a maniac. We all could have been....better. We all should have had trust in him. We all should have been better detectives, asking questions, making sure we didn't make a mistake in our work...We all should have given him the same chances we give to all the fucked-up criminals in this city – he almost whispered the last sentence.  
\- The thing is...I need to be there. For him. If I can help, somehow, I must help. I cannot let this messed up...family or the feelings burying it and all the fucking guilt take my energy away. It's needed elsewhere – with the last, quite dry words, Tim turned his back on his brothers, not being able to stay there and watch. And suffer with Dick. It might have been right. But not the necessary thing.   
Dick was shaking by then. Damian was staring up at him with wide eyes, scared, but he obviously didn't know what to do...Truth to be told, the little demon didn't say a word during their talk.   
\- Tim...just...promise me you will be okay. And.... - Dick forced himself to speak. Even if he had no clue what to say.   
\- I will call frequently! - he cut into the words like an ice-blade, then left the Cave. 

Alfred was standing by the door when Tim came down the stairs from his room, ready to leave.   
The old butler looked like someone who aged decades during a day.   
\- I will keep a close eye on him, Alfred. And on everything – Tim promised quietly, with determination in his voice, looking up at their almost-grandfather. This time there was no ice in his eyes. Just...sadness. And power.  
\- Take care of yourself as well, Master Timothy. This family needs every member. Yourself included. And I hope with my whole being he will....heal – Alfred almost whispered the answer, his voice not having his usual calmness. He put a hand on Tim's shoulder, keeping the touch tightly for a few seconds.   
Then Tim walked out from the house to his taxi. 

He didn't look back.


	4. Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a family most things can end up as shared things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, soooo.....here is the info about Bruce. 
> 
> Originally this wasn't an existing piece, but I felt it necessary here. Just to remind myself about certain things: why Dick behaves like he does, Damian is a young one, in the Batfam for every word which said out loud, there are three million others, which stay unsaid forever.

Dick was sitting in his room, in one of the most uncomfortable chairs, facing the empty wall. All the curtains he had as closed as it was possible. He wanted darkness. But he couldn't go down the Cave, if he wanted to be alone. Damian always followed him everywhere in the house, always trying to make him...communicate or do something. Be normal.   
Only in his room he could hope for some....loneliness. 

Something horrible, cold, unforgiving was gnawing at him nonstop, freezing him to someone standing, walking, talking, working even, but dead on the inside. And there was no escape. Not that he wished for it.   
He deserved suffering.   
How could he....  
He had done that to his little brother. He was the responsible one for Jason's anguish. 

Tim was so right. As always. He could say, do, think so many things. Wish for even more. Oh, yeah, he could dream for himself a total different life or universe or whatever.   
And what would that change? What would he reach by that? What would be the worth of all that?  
Nothing.   
Only reality, the present of their lives mattered.   
And that was the horror he had to face. And he would have to, from this day to every upcoming new days, until his last day....or....Jason's.....

He buried his face into his palms. He had ran out of tears a day ago, so now he could just shake in silence, rocking himself back and forth. 

God, what had he done! 

He wanted to be there too, in the hospital, with Jason! Oh, how he wanted that! But he could not imagine a situation where that would...mean any good. To anyone.   
He could beg for forgiveness, he could try to explain....if Jason could make it back...  
But this situation didn't deserve forgiveness.   
And he doubted Jason would give him more that what he had given him....  
He hadn't stop for a second while beating Jason, when he had found him. He'd kicked into the sleeping boy's stomach as hard as he could, and when the horrified, coughing Jason had fallen out from his bed, he had used everything he had.....  
He hadn't given a chance to Jason to say anything. Or to fight back. He had used all the merciless tricks he had ever learned on the streets as Robin, then as a cop in Bludhaven. Of course Jason had known these all his life, he had been a street rat, but he couldn't have had a chance against Dick's speed and fluid way of moving.   
It was so terrible to think about it now!!!   
Why he hadn't stop? Just for a few seconds!! 

Dick couldn't stop the shaking which tortured him along his memories. 

Why he hadn't stop.....?

If he wanted to be honest, he had been all that way then because....the very end of his confusion, confusion about everything which had been Jason Todd and Red Hood, had to come to an end one day. 

He had concealed his feelings for his lost little brother for a long, long time. And he had hated it all.   
Dick always had found himself torn into two, when it had been about Jason. 

One part if him had just wished for a good life. Being happy and honest. Trusting. It had wished to welcome back Jason with open arms and love. Forgiveness for everything he had ever done.   
He'd usually behaved like only this part had existed. 

But there had been another part of him, a strong part, which had had doubts. Rightful ones.   
That part of him had always worried about Jason. About how dangerous he had been. How reckless. How he had went against their way again and again. And most importantly: how unpredictable Jason had been.   
Dick couldn't have been sure about anything in connection to the almost-villain-vigilante ever. He had felt fear for Tim and Damian so many times!  
He hadn't been able to know Jason, for real, truly. He had understood his pain and his anger for the Joker, for all what had been done to him, for never getting...a chance to see that his life had mattered in this world to somebody.......  
But there had been so much more in Jason. Especially his decisions and methods about justice...   
This cautious part of him hadn't really believed in healing Jason with hugs. The thing, which he had believed to melt Tim's ice armor on day and turn Damian to a normal human, that hadn't been the thing to turn Jason back to his past self.  
And he had had doubts about their past too. Had he truly known Jason in the past? To see this older version so...wrong...?   
He had hated how Tim could get to Jason. How they had had connection. How easily Tim had gone to do any kind of missions, with the Red Hood!   
It had filled Dick with dread always. He had feared that Tim wouldn't make it nack one day from such a mission. Either because Jason had ended up being reckless and left Tim without protection, help, back-up, whatever or because Jason had killed him...Or, worst case scenario, because Jason's recklessness had had it's effects on Tim, who had become similar to him during missions....

He had had his reasons to never let Jason spend too much time with Damian, especially not without supervision. 

But....

How had he been so blinded by fear to do that to Jason? And push him into the arms of the Joker!!!  
Well....  
His doubts about (not) understanding Jason had resurfaced and seemed to be confirmed the day they had spoken to the witnesses. All of them had been crystal clear about what they had seen. 

And Dick....Dick had just believed them immediately. And his heart had broken.   
Because, after all, he had wished for all of them to have their life in order, all members of the family existing together in harmony, in peace, trusting each other, working together, having great, enjoyable breaks from work together, and all that. Everything which a loving heart could hope for. 

And he had thought that Jason had betrayed them, again, following some crazy, bloodlust-filled plan, preparing to strike them down, have his goddamn vengeance for the past...

And red fog had covered his brain, chasing him to stop the mad one, the lost one, the changed one. 

And he had done that. He had stopped the Red Hood. Once and for all. 

He wished so much to change that, somehow, anyhow!   
And he wished to have Bruce back now.   
Their father had left with the Justice League almost three months ago. Bruce had warned them that there could be a chance to not be able to communicate with Earth for long. And he had warned them that the plan had been two months of time for the mission, but it could end up being longer. 

Well....

Each day Oracle had called them to tell: no news. The Watchtower hadn't caught any signs of transmission.  
Well...until Jason's thing she had called....

'Bruce...Please come back soon...Please, please....' he thought desperately, darkness choking his soul. 

~~~~~

All the while Damian was sitting on the floor cross-legged, right in front of Dick's closed door, staring at the wood like a rabid owl, radiating anger. 

This whole situation was so stupid! 

Grayson's grieving was absolutely unnecessary, and Damian hated every second of this distance-keeping.   
He didn't deserve this! To be sent away constantly! And his brother, best friend, mentor, leader didn't deserve all this drama! 

Damian was sure that Todd couldn't be that seriously injured. He was the Red Hood, for Heaven's sake!   
He always got better, no matter how he looked some time earlier....Why others couldn't see this? Todd never needed their tears, and he never needed them because he could always stand up (without help). He was a fool, quite slow, only good for brutal, hand-to-hand fighting or total destruction with explosives...but Damian had learned to...admit it, even if only to himself, that Todd could be useful, and even if he grumbled a lot always, he always came when they called.   
He hated to admit it, but he could see why Todd would deserve some respect for this. 

Just because Drake's delicate feelings couldn't bear to have his partner in a hospital for a few weeks, Grayson didn't have to suffer!  
And that moron had been right...If there had been a mistake, then that would have been their mistake, not just Grayson's. 

Why did they all have to behave like fools?! Even Pennyworth was so quiet these days. Not really answering to anything, not really reacting to Damian's (purposefully made) mistakes, like normally. He worked like a robot these days. Nothing was out of place, but the butler's mind was constantly elsewhere.

And Damian hated it. 

Todd would never worth such a drama, never!   
And his injuries couldn't be that bad...


	5. Chewing on chewing-toy-thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim thinking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's fly this hellbird! (I am tired so sorry for mistakes, I will try to work with them later, I like to write in the dawn, but not today....aaaaand this chapter became so long I had to break it into two to work with it........eh-meh....)
> 
> First: I try to use these guys " instead of these -   
> But I cannot promise to never screw this up!
> 
> Second: I think I made a negative character out of Dick here. Sorry about that. He isn't really a negative one in this fic! Just one of my characters who will all do the same job: totally ruining sg (Jason) because of too deep belief in their principles. But anything in connection to life and living creatures cannot be used without flexibility! So they will see quite well the failure of living/working by such rules and rule-following - and they will suffer because of the suffering they caused. Especially because this will stay forever unredeemed.   
> Seriously, with Dick, the Golden one, and Batman's ways, this was so totally pre-ordained. 
> 
> Third: WARNING WARNING: suicide attempt in this chapter (just mentioned) - next chapter will be really rough, emotionally, so....don't get too close to the fire, okay?   
> Thanks

Tim had spent three weeks with high-level multitasking, keeping everything in order, doing his duties (perfectly) (all of them) and planning, planning endlessly. And in the meantime going crazy of course.   
At the end he had been close to seriously think about moving to another planet (the idea had come because of the high prices of old, big houses with stone-walls), so he had gone to have breakfast with his brothers, maybe speak with them a little about Jason, about the situation of still not getting Bruce back from the unknown......when Oracle called them all that morning finally, telling them the news.   
Bad news. 

Jason had woken up during the night and made a horrific scene by trying to tear out everything from his body and trying to slice his throat with one of the needles. 

To be honest, Tim wasn't even surprised. Only fucking angry, because a major part of his multitasking had been the wonderful job of keeping an eye on Jason, and he had spent three hours at his bedside the very last night. But of course the other couldn't have woken up when he had been there to help!! 

After Oracle's call Damian became absolutely motionless, Dick's face looked like he was dying, and Tim stood up, nodding once to the stone-like Alfred on his side.   
"I'm going to him" he stated.  
"You cannot" croaked out Dick, shaking his head, like he was hoping for this nightmare to end and waking up in his bed in a normal life, just like he had done during the passing weeks "He..  
" He needs help" he stated again, not letting anything getting to him. He had to solve this. He had to. He had to. No use to let himself get distressed.  
"We can't help, Timmy" said Dick, but his voice broke on the last part. This was the thought filling his head in a cruel way these days. And he didn't want anyone else try to do the impossible and then fail and get shattered too. Especially not one of his little brothers!   
"Dick, it will be the best if only I go. Maybe we cannot help, okay, I accept that, but going alone is a different thing" answered Tim quickly with his best impartial, smooth voice.   
And Tim saw how he hurt Dick with this. Saw Damian's face coming back to life and glaring at him.   
He didn't care. Couldn't. Not when his energy, his mind was needed elsewhere. 

Maybe Jason had been right to leave this family and never coming back, or well, not really-totally coming back. Too many buried emotions, too many hidden thoughts, too many heartbreaks covered by silence and their cold principles. The mission demanded everything to end up being subordinated. But of course all this mess would never leave, just because they never paid attention to it.   
And all of them were tortured by this. Ruined, weakened. 

And now Tim could not let this happen to him. Couldn't let his energy being taken away by problems, which most probably would never get solved, would never be voiced even. 

He drove away from the manor with a cold calmness in his heart, only Alfred's kindness giving him some energy. The old butler looked almost happy for him, squeezed his shoulders once this time too, when he stepped out the door. 

All this time, next to his so enviable multi-tasking, he had figured out a lot. About why the hell he was so ready to do everything for Jason.   
All in all, Tim felt an implacable need to keep the other boy close. Probably this need had been always there, just when Jason had been busy to gut them all, Tim had been preoccupied with survival. But he couldn't imagine his life now without the boy, who always challenged Fate itself.   
Jason had been the Robin who had shown Tim a so-so-so different way to live a life than how he, in his bravest moments, had ever imagined. He had been a kid who'd had an absolutely invisible life and he'd only had a real, living connection with the world through his camera. The Robin he had been able to watch that way and make photos of...Robin had been a new world. With his so much harsher ways than Dick's...with his energy, power, scary enthusiasm to do things...and his honest caring, even if the way he had been able to show it had been savage.   
Tim had loved that Robin. For everything that Robin had been, and what he'd never been able to even dream to be himself.   
He still remembered how that Robin's disappearance had hurt.   
Okay, Jason had done horrible things to them when he'd come back. To Tim...they didn't matter at all anymore.   
He got his Robin back, he couldn't care less about how he was...a lot more...brutal than ever before in fights, they could work together perfectly, thank you very much. And somehow...Jason understood him. They were exact opposites and Jason still saw through him.   
So, yes, just like in the past, he was ready to do anything to keep this family together, to keep everyone in it. Keep them close to himself. To have and keep the life he had hoped for as a kid.   
Have and keep Jason close. Especially him. 

 

When he arrived at the hospital, he simply stated at the reception that he might be the only one „Mr Peterson” could consider a friend, then bribed the doctor who tried to stop him.   
After that it was a well-known fact that the Drake family had been a close friend of the Petersons, but by now only the young sons from both families were alive. 

 

So Tim stepped out from the elevator and walked down the corridor without any complications, and a kind nurse even led him straight to Jason's room. And after some dollars slipped into the right pocket, he could be sure that he wouldn't be disturbed by anyone during his visit.   
Like there would be anyone else caring about Jason.


	6. I'd come for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! Although it isn't the way I planned it to be, it is still quite powerful, so....WARNING: Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, bad grammar. 
> 
> Sorry, I cannot really see out of my head now, but I wanted to finish this so much, so yeah....all mistakes are mine, I hope you can at leats read this and make sense of it.....
> 
> ((There is a chance I will re-write this later))

He stepped in and forced his face into a neutral, calm mask. 

Jason was taking painful little gasps of breath, strapped down to his bed, not being able to move. He had a lot more bandages than before. 

Then Tim realized that Jason tried to move. Little wiggling motions, little, useless tugs with his hands. Or more like...the things which were in the places of his hands. And he obviously caused himself pain with all that, his grimace and the beeping of the machines told it clearly. 

But when Tim moved to step closer, to stop him, to distract him, Jason's eyes focused on him in an instant. And widened in pure horror. In the exact moment his pluse started rising. 

"Jason, I only came to..." he started quickly with his best soothing voice, but a surreal croak stopped him. Jason was crying out, but his damaged throat didn't let him scream. Tim only then realized how tightly Jason's neck was wrapped around. The older boy moved his head from one side to another, tears slowly covering his face, his body fighting against the straps weakly again.  
"Jason. Hey. I won't hurt you. I swear" whispered Tim softly, slowly approaching the bed, fighting against his own desperation.  
Another croak answered him, this time followed by a wince, and then pleading eyes stared up at him. Jason was begging, without words, because even that wasn't left for him. And he was crying, shaking with the force of it. It was all like a blow to Tim.  
" Please, please, calm down! If they think I mean harm to you, they will throw me out!" Tim tried his best to talk normally, but his voice was a mess. Hesitantly he raised a hand, hated it when Jason stared at his hand with terror, then slowly, oh so slowly put his hand on Jason's forehead. Jason froze at the contact, then gasped and moved his head a little, to stare again up at Tim. Who was totally lost in his own fear. He didn't know what to say or do, not really! And Jason was so scared...Without a better idea, he started to caress the bandage-less parts of Jason's head, and watched as the staring became less terrified, the breathing less gasping and more real breathing, and the heartrate-monitor showed almost normal signs.  
"I know you are not really fond of touching....so..sorry..." Tim started his mumbling a little awkwardly, but he wanted to speak, to talk to Jason, to make a connection, somehow" But it's just...I am so glad you are alive, Jay! I am so glad."  
He never found out why that was a wrong thing to say.  
But a nearly mewling sound was forced up to him, and Jason started to struggle again. Shaking hís head against the touch, trying to move in the bed, gasping again and again, then shaking and crying when his small energy left him and he had to stop, fall against the pillows and break down in front of Tim.  
Tim already freaked out at Jason's tantrum, but when those green eyes opened again and looked into his eyes, he felt like lightning had struck him. Jason's gaze was speaking about burning in Hell. He was without hope, he was ready to give it up, he was suffering.  
And then Jason's lips started moving. And of course, even without a voice to speak, Tim could read from his lips.  
Later he wished he hadn't.  
'Please...please no..no....no....no....'  
"Jay, what 'no'? What is it? You don't want something? Are you in pain? Should I call a nurse?" his nerves were making Tim ask a dozen questions, because at least then there would be something to do! His heartache for Jason, the one he wanted to save so much, was growing with every pleading look Jason sent his way.  
'Please....please....don't send me back....please.....' by now, tears were flooding from Jason's eyes and his breathing became dangerously quick. And all the time, he stared at Tim relentlessly. Telling him about his agony without talking about it.  
"Back? Jason, you will need meds. You will need sleep. That's not something we can bargain about. If they have to knock you out, they have to do it! But that won't do any harm. If you want to, I will be here" and while he was talking patiently, Tim was confused. Nothing really bad happened to Jason in the hospital, next to the injuries he'd caused to himself. Why would he protest against drugs? This condition wasn't something he could get through without painkillers, his philosophy against them be damned!  
And then Jason said one more word, and Tim realized that he had been an idiot.  
'Arkham'  
Tim shook once because of the horror which filled Jason's eyes at that word. It was like watching madness taking away Jason from them. Him.  
"No" he barked with a steely voice and he let his eyes burn themselves into Jason's "You will never go back there! Do you hear me? Never! Nobody will ever take you near to any place like that! No Arkham. No."  
Tim leaned down and stared back at Jason.  
"Do you hear me? You won't go back there!"  
More tears, an unsure face and weak gasping answered him. Then...  
'You...not here to take me there?'  
And this was, what broke Tim finally. He nearly fall to his knees again.  
"No " he choked out " Never."  
He couldn't really hug Jason. Not with those injuries. But he could lean down, carefully putting his arms almost-around-Jason, carefully, softly pressing his face to Jason's and he could cry.  
They cried for so many lost dreams, chances, cried for mistakes that would never be forgiven, cried for lost innocence and fighting for good in a merciless, cold world.  
When Tim could finally pull himself together, and stood up, Jason suddenly started his speak again.  
'It wasn't me. I didn't do anything! I don't know why Dick came for me! I didn't do anything! I didn't!' He slowly but surely started to rile himself up again, so Tim put his hand on Jason's forehead again. He wiped away both of their tears and andswered on a croaked voice:  
"I know. And he knows too."  
Disbelieving, huge eyes answered him.  
'But...he gave me to the Joker! Tim, I was there and the Joker came for me! He tortured me again! Tim!'  
" I. Know " he said slowly, fighting again for his calmness " It was a trick...A group...tricked us to think you killed again."  
'But I was thrown into Arkham for it' Jason's eyes became glassy, his last sentence unsure, like he could only whisper.  
" I am sorry...I am sorry...I am so sorry, Jason. I am sorry. I know I cannot change anything with his...but I am sorry "Tim felt like dying. His guilt was back on full force, choking him, while he tried to by a safe someone for Jason. How pathetic!  
'But Dick didn't even stop! I couldn't say anything!' Jason's signs were quickly worsening, the fragile peace, which he found when Tim told him about Arkham, shattering in his mind.  
"Jason...please....stay strong...for me, alright? " asked Tim with a forced calmness " Please...calm down....You made it out alive, and you will be alright. Everything will be alright " he whispered.  
Jason croaked at that, a louder, gruesome voice, and shook away Tim's hand from his head.  
He wanted to scream, but only these sounds came out from his mouth, so he had to give up. His body trembled thanks to the horrors pressing his mind into chaos. The whole terror of being betrayed so terribly was too much.  
'I don't want this life' he said to the ceiling, but Tim's gasp was an answer enough. He saw his sentence.  
"Jay...don't say that. That's stupid. I know...that this will affect your life, but... " Tim's mumbled words were forgotten, when Jason's eyes turned to him again. There was no hope there....And Tim felt his insides freezing, because the power of those eyes became too much. And what to answer to all that?  
But the passing shock was repeated when Jason's lips started moving again:  
'There is nothing left. This is no life. Look at me! Look at this wreck I should call my body! If I ever mattered to you, you should end me right now!'  
And this hurt much more than being stabbed. Tim stared back with wide eyes to Jason, then slowly started to shake his head.  
" No....nnnno......no....No! Never! " he nearly yelled at the end.  
And Jason turned his eyes, his face away.  
Tim had to take huge deep breaths. This was so much worse than what he'd thought it would be!  
And he was so lost. How should he make Jason feel more...valuable?  
" Jay? You know that...you are wrong...right? " he asked in a small voice " You know that...I still need you, right? We will figure out something...I promise...I promise...  
Tim never before felt his words so pathetic. And he hated himself for this. The awesome Tim Drake couldn't pull back his Robin from the edge!!! Or Red Robin his....Jason....  
Red Hood was gone. It was clear. But even if the reckless, rough, dangerous vigilante was lost, Tim was not ready to give up on the human being who remained! At least Jason was still here for him! He wouldn't let him go!  
But the other still looked to the other side of the room.  
Tim slowly raised his hand again and put it softly back on Jason's head. Only to feel the fine trembling fulfilling Jason's body.  
"Jason! " he yelped with alarm, and leaned closer. The lost bird was still crying. Without a sound, without moving, but his body betrayed him.  
Tim cursed like a sailor and quickly looked around in the room.  
Two minutes later he covered Jason in two more blankets, found in the small closet near the corner, then kicked down his shoes.  
He wasn't Red Robin without a reason!  
Fifteen minutes later Tim, without hurting Jason, without doing any damage to any wires or tubes in and around the bed, curled around Jason's shoulders and head, like a really huge cat, and hugged him feathersoftly.  
" I am here. I am here. You are not alone. I am here. Everything is going to be fine " he murmured endlessly.  
'I am not Red Hood anymore' came a sudden sentence after some time, and Jason shook violently after it.  
"I know...But it doesn't matter " whispered Tim softly " Just heal. Rest. And heal. Later, we will figure it out..."  
'They will come for me....Somebody will....And I cannot fight....I cannot escape...I am already dead. Maybe I shouldn't have come back. I cannot....I cannot....'  
" Shhhh...enough!"  
'I am...scared....I am so scared...I am scared, Tim!' and the violent shaking ran through him again.  
" Enough " Tim slowly, carefully put one hand on Jason's mouth " Nobody will hurt you. Calm down. It's over, the suffering, the pain. All of that. You are safe. You are safe!"  
Always carefully and slowly, he moved his chest a little, so Jason's head was pressed to it.  
"Listen to my heart! Listen! Until you can hear it, you are safe! And even if you cannot, until my heart stops beating, nobody will hurt you! " he promised with steel in his voice.

And Jason cried quietly in his arms for a long time, sentences about a lost life tearing themselves out from him again and again. About Red Hood. About the Outlaws. About motorbikes. About flying. About Crime Alley and all the people there, innocent and helpless next to dangerous and merciless. And again and again: the horrible fear of Bruce, of the others, of anyone, sending him back to Arkham.

Tim spent the whole day with him, listening, caressing his face, his hair, when Jason seemed to fall apart again. He couldn't really hold him tightly, not with those injuries, but he could make Jason feel another presence close, a caring one.  
Sometimes it seemed to be enough. Sometimes he murmured soft, sweet, unintelligent things to Jason, when he couldn't stop trembling and crying. Sometimes he could do nothing just wait for it to end, watching the monitors like a hawk, hoping for exhaustion to take out Jason. 

Later that afternoon a nurse entered the room to change the infusion bags. She stood at the door for a good minute, gaping at the sight.  
Jason was sleeping, like someone knocked him out. His head was pressed a little to the chest of Tim, who was lying on the bed, around Jason, in an impossible pose, and who glanced up like an overprotective hellhound from his trickly held phone, when the nurse stepped in.


	7. Even Hell must be better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Story of Jason's first waking up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: suicidal thoughts and an attempt, pain, blood - not too graphic, but please pay attention!

For Jason waking up was pain. Dull, but present everywhere in his body. And in his mind.  
Where was he? What'd happened?   
Soon (or it was a long time?) he figured out that he was in a hospital.   
And even hope's overflow in his soul after that realization - hurt. Because he already started to sense that something was really wrong. And such a feeling never in his life had been followed by good happenings.   
So, in combination with that wrongness' feeling, hoping that from a hospital he could escape somehow, was a risky hope. A hope that had the promise of horrible failure in itself already. 

But he had to keep that hope.

It was all he had. That risky, questionable hope was the only thing now to protect him from giving up.   
He was grateful for the meds the people here must have been pumping into him. They kept his memories quite hazy. And distant enough.   
Thanks to that he only knew that Dick had thrown him into Arkham, and there....there had been....things...and the Joker.....and pain, pain, pain.....

Grey fog started to cover his brain. But a machine's more and more agitated beeping saved him in the last second. It hurt his ears too much.   
Maybe....it beeped because of him?  
Yeah, that made sense. In hospitals, machines beeped for the patients. 

He looked around again and again in the room, and slowly a new realization arrived: agitated beeping weren't supposed to be followed by people running here and there?   
Maybe not here. 

It suited him just fine. 

He needed to make plans. First: he had to escape. Second: he had to find out the source of the bad feeling. What was wrong? Third: he had to know what would happen when the drugs leave him. Or...maybe....that should be the first thing?  
No. No, he had to escape. He would endure everything for that. He would have to! After he would have his freedom again, everything would be fine, so he would have the energy, the time, the chances, to figure out how to heal without a hospital's help. Freedom was more important, everything came after that.   
And it couldn't be that bad.   
So, yes, freedom. 

He just couldn't know how much time he had left here. What if all the more important things had been already done? When would they decide to send him back to Arkham's medical wing to do the rest of his recovery there....?

He had to be quick. No need to risk his chance. Maybe this was his only chance!

He looked around again.   
He couldn't see any signs of surveillance. Good. But he couldn't see any equipment either to help him. Like a wheelchair. That would have been great. He wasn't sure about walking on his own. Even less sure about running.   
And how the hell would he play a visitor or something like that succesfully with such a hazy brain?! But that was his only chance. To fake it and walk out of here.   
Maybe there were clothes here somewhere. That would be the first thing. Yes. And then....  
Then....

Maybe a distraction? Fire-alarm? Throwing out something through the window?   
No.  
Fire-alarm would be enough.   
And the task seemed easier than lifting up anything big enough to make a shock big enough downstairs. 

So...What would be the first?  
Yeah, clothes. 

But then he had to get out of this bed. 

After maybe fifteen pathetic attempts he finally pushed himself up with his puppet-like hand to a sitting position.  
He just couldn't figure out what to think about the other. All the wires coming out of it here and there and everywhere. It looked....disgusting. And hurt like hell when he just thought about moving it.   
Fuck it, he'd made it out of worse situations in the past. 

After fighting desperately for breath for long minutes and fighting back against nausea and fainting, he looked down on his body. He needed to know how hard that escape would be. 

And that was the moment when something green ripped for itself a fissure on his soul, and started running. Fulfilling him with numbness and something horrible. Something horrible which promised....madness....death....Hell.

What he was staring at....it couldn'be true. No. No. No. It couldn't be. 

But his leg was missing. And the wrongess was now obvious.   
He was the wrongness. 

Nausea came suddenly, and he realized how his breathing had stopped until that moment. He vomited fluids from his stomach to the floor on his left, then took shaky breaths, feeling worse and worse by every passing second, while more and more machines started not just beeping but ringing like crazy around him. 

Jason's brain was falling apart, but all the parts were working at least.   
Hazy or not, he knew a few things. They were just clear enough for him. 

He wouldn't be able to escape like this.   
Ever. 

So he would end up at Arkham again, he had no doubts about that. 

He had no chance to run away.   
He had no chance to protect himself. 

There would be only the Joker, at the end, having him as his favourite toy....

 

And while the room was disappearing right in front of his eyes, and only green stayed, green, green green, Jason suddenly found out that he had one last clear thought.   
And he held onto it with everything left in him. 

He would not go back there. 

He woud not go back there alive. 

He didn't really feel anything while his teeth bite down to one of the wires coming out from his hand.   
And he didn't feel anything while he tore it out, then gripped it between two fingers, forcing himself to hold the wire tightly, like that simple, fucking little piece of metal was the key to the universe's (multiverse's) existence. 

Jason couldn't see anything but green, green, green, endless deadly green everywhere, and everything was cold, cold, colder than a murderous winter at Crime Alley.  
And his hand stabbed and stabbed again, tearing apart flesh with that fucing little piece of metal which meant everything in that moment. 

He couldn't be sure if it was his imagination, when he started to hear screams and feel small hands on himself, stopping his movements.   
But he didn't care.   
It didn't matter anymore. 

Because the word was fading out with surprising speed, and even if the demons of Hell were grabbing him, it was better than life.

And green slowly but surely gave up it's place to red....


	8. What I'm supposed to do?! I won't run, but what should I do???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim has to face different kinds of horrors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING:  
> 1\. GORE!!   
> 2\. Some chapters from now (maybe including this too) will be boring (2-3 chapters, I think), you can skip that if you want to, I think

Jason woke up to quiet sounds and some kind of a good smell.   
There was something warm around him....Then it moved, and just when his brain started to catch up and he started to slíp into freaking out, the warm thing caressed his forehead.

"Morning, Jay!" came a cheerful welcoming from just too close and too cheerfully.

He answered with a soft growl, and tried to move. Turn away, maybe shove the loud thing away, maybe curl up into a ball.   
He was so tired.

The movement was blocked even before he could have pulled away from the annoying, living warmth. 

Fuck.

Jason quickly opened his eyes, stared down at himself, and in less than two heartbeats his brain woke up totally. And he had to calm down. 

He was still in the hospital, strapped down, no need to worry.   
No chance to worry.

Only then he figured out that the babbling coming from behind wanted something from him.   
"Calm. Down. Do you hear me? Jay? Come on! Calm down! The heart-rate monitor will start it's riot if you don't stop freaking out! Stop it! It's me! Jay? Jay, come on!"  
Oh. Yes. Tim. Now the hand softly patting the top of his head made some sense.   
He took a bigger breath and twisted his head a little.   
Yeah, that was Tim. Still lying next to him, or around him, or whatever.   
He stared at the brilliant smile the other showed him for a few seconds, then turned his gaze away. 

Jason wasn't sure about Tim's clothes. Were they the same ones he had seen on him before sleep? Or Tim had already left, changed, made it back, while he had been out of it – as usual?   
He didn't know.   
And this was his best clue to measure time, so it was annoying when he messed it up. 

He gazed at the windows, but the simple realization that wonderful sunshine bathed the curtains (always closed) didn't mean much. 

When would they knock him out again with some drugs?   
When would they force-feed him again?  
When would be the next horrible torture, to bathe him and change his bandages or diaper? 

All of those were among the things the others, especially Tim, called „essential for Jason's well-being and healing”.   
For Jason, all of it was either pain or another reason to hate his existence.   
He had told the annoying presence around him many times, even when his mind had been foggy with the meds – he had asked him to help him, and end this misery, stop the torturing, or understand his request and just let him go. 

The answer had been always the same. A warm, soft hug, enveloping him, patient and honest-to-God loving words telling him that he had been wrong, and he would heal, everything would be okay, he would not go anywhere, stay calm, let these people help, relax, heal. 

Bullshit. 

But just like his requests, Tim's request to make him accept the situation and hope and believe had been fucking adamant. 

„Jay....what do you think about a smoothie? Or maybe something with chocolate? Pancakes?” came suddenly a kind question, and Tim leaned over him.  
He only answered with a small shake of his head and felt his heartrate rising. Eating...Always Tim's damn plan to make him eat!   
And of course this meant that the nurses already prepared the stuff to 'feed' him, somewhere. Tim always asked so soon after his waking up, if there was a plan formed already to feed him. 

Problem a: Jason just couldn't eat. His throat hurt, his stomach didn't need food, the thought of eating almost always made him nauseous....He despised the thought and fought against feeding.   
Problem b: he couldn't really fight back. And if he wouldn't eat willingly, they brought in the equipment even sooner those days to solve the problem....The nurses even saw his reluctance as a clue to start it...'Let's get it over and done with!'

He hated Tim's question, he hated the pain, he hated to be a fucking lab rat for these people....

„Okay, stop. It was just a question!” said Tim quickly, voice filled with worry, and a hand found it's place to his face, caressing it like he was a messed-up dog.   
He hated it.   
„Look, Jay, my main problem is: I really don't know what would be the meal you would like to eat! Remember yesterday? I tried my best, but you hated them all! I spent almost three-hundred for nothing! Although I'm sure the nurses loved the food, they appreciated the gift and I'm happy to make their day better, but my aim would be to find out what would you like! Why can't you help me?”

And of course, Jason didn't answer. At all. Even his eyes would stare at anyhwere but Tim.   
Tim sighed a little, caressed his face once again, then carefully climbed down from the bed. 

Tim was tired. He had spent six days with Jason. And felt totally useless. The nurses were grateful for his presence, because, according to them, Jason was calmer thanks to him.   
He couldn't really agree with them.   
Jason wasn't communicating with him about food, especially specific meals, because he didn't want to eat at all.   
Jason didn't want to hear him talking about lovely apartments, and what would look good in them, once they could leave the hospital behind one day, because Jason didn't believe in healing at all. 

And he couldn't do anything to change this. He couldn't make the other communicate with him about this deep hopelessness at all. 

And he felt like a failure because of that. 

The nurses and the doctors kept on telling him to be patient and Jason would come around...but Tim was afraid. Jason looked broken. Broken too much, too deeply, to consider hope. And Tim had no idea how to change this. 

At least he could help with the fear. Whenever Jason started freaking out, he held him, whispered him assurance, promises of protection, and wondered how the hell someone like him ended up in a position like this.   
He wasn't good. He didn't know what he was doing most of the times. 

And Jason would have needed someone....perfect. Someone meaning real help for him. Somebody who could figure out his needs, somebody who could say the fitting things and lead out Jason from desperation and hating his existence. 

This was the most frightening part. Tim could see what and how Jason thought about himself. And that meant many, many, many, many hours filled with drugs. And a questionable situation about hoping that he would get better. 

Tim never let himself show it, but he was just as scared as Jason, although for different reasons.   
Nobody was allowed to talk about the whole list of Jason's injuries in the presence of Jason. Even when he slept.   
A rule not made by Tim.  
And he totally agreed with it. Because nobody could estimate the impact of that list on Jason.   
Losing one leg wasn't the only major injury. Or the broken ribs, or the broken bones of the remaining leg, or the cracks on his pelvis, or the deep wounds, some of them bringing infections to Jason's organs. Or the burnings, probably thanks to some acid here and there.   
Even his missing or broken teeth would be repaired – one day.   
But what the Joker had done to his always-bandaged hand...and arm...and his chest.....  
When Tim had found out about that, one day before, he had thrown up in the middle of the room. Never before he had been so grateful for Timothy Drake's public picture. Nobody had blamed him, he had been pushed out from the room, as the rich, nice kid he had been in their eyes hadn't needed a strong stomach for his style of life, naturally.   
Jason's palm was flayed. And the continuing part of his skin from his forearm. And a big part of his chest. That one looked like a horrific Bat-symbol.   
Tim had been told later, that the two parts missing skin (hand and forearm) were sewed to the chest, to cover the gruesome wounds. Few people from the ER's staff had fainted after they had started to cut the stitches and had realized what had been in front of them.   
The doctors had told him also, that they had been surreally grateful for all the skin from Jason's amputated leg. They had needed much to cover the injuries. 

One cop, the only one who had come for Jason's case (mostly to see him exist and not for much more), had said that it had had to be one of the sickest of Joker's tricks.   
„You know....with this message...Red Hood's connection to the Bats was something many people had guesses about. Joker used that. With that symbol on the guys's chest. Like...he was a Bat in the heart, but hide it in plain sight. Although there were bleeding wounds....Heah, yeah, like the truth bleeding through...”  
Right after that the absent-minded cop had excused himself and left. Wise decision, because the way Tim had felt himself glaring, it had been a surprise the cop hadn't caught fire. 

Although....those stupid words had sounded like a painful truth. 

After that Tim had made sure that whenever Jason had asked about his injuries, he had distracted him.   
Mostly by dragging Jason into one of their neverending fights over food.   
And never let himself show weakness again. 

The tragic was that Jason needed energy, needed food. With infusion and tubes they could send down some, but it would have been a lot better to have him eat something. A lot of something, actually.   
Jason couldn't know about that either, but there were operations waiting for him still.   
But not until he was so weak. 

He sighed, once, then called out:  
„Alfred sent some new types of...cream-something. Smells heavenly. Let's try out!”


	9. I see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some brooding, Jason's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the boring chapters

Tim reached a point of exhaustion which worried enough the hospital's people to make him leave.

Jason was glad. The more the boy was away the better. Not like Tim left him alone. Ever.   
Every moment of him being awake was always fulfilled with Tim Drake's presence.   
And he couldn't understand it. And hated it. Now with every cell of his being Jason hated it. 

Because Jason couldn't give anything. He couldn't see what the kid hoped. What was the point? There was no....happy ending, not for this story. 

So Tim suffered here with him, watched him, always, always talked bullshit about him getting better, held him when fear became too much, and always fought with him about....quite everything these days. Wasting energy for nothing, rushing into failing, seeing something in a lost cause. 

Jason knew better. He knew how this would end. And he knew how always-perfect-at-everything-in-this-universe Tim Drake would feel, at the end. And wow, there was another thing to be miserable about, another thing to fuel the fire of agony.   
He didn't want anyone to fight for him. Not anymore. It was stupid. He wanted...an ending.   
No need for anyone to feel pain over his leaving, when that was the only thing he wanted now. 

He thought a lot about his situation during his drug-filled hours, half asleep in Tim's arms, while the kid tried to live a life through his mobile or tablet.   
There was no way out of this. Only one.   
And he wasn't disturbed by this knowledge at all. Not even when he had realized it the first time. He mostly felt relief. There was at least that one way to escape. 

He wasn't afraid of death. He couldn't see a reason why to feel such way. It had happened once...probably it would be, could be easier now. He had done as much as he had been able to with the time he had got for his second life. It would have been really good to live more, but...he didn't have the right to complain. 

So, Jason lay on his back, with an empty expression on his face, not reacting to anyone or anything around him during that day.   
He didn't care about the alarmed whispering and the worried stares he got, of course his sudden change of behaviour was a sign. He didn't find like a hellish monster from a horror movie when they exposed his abdomen, to connect his 'food' to the feeding tube. Something they had needed strong sedatives and a half-hugging-half-holding-down-and-begging-for-cooperation Tim before. He didn't scream when they cleaned him. Didn't cry out when they checked all the wires, moving his body sometimes through the process. 

Jason retreated into himself, sinking deeply into a silence, an unmoving peace, a frozen moment of existing. His eyes stared into emptiness, and he couldn't hear not just the nurses calling out his name, but even his own breathing. 

This...state was good, until he could...check out. 

The golden motes of dust dancing in the air, only in the tiny line of light the curtain's gap let in they could be seen....it was perfectly enough to keep him occupied, as much as he could still connect to his environment. 

Jason was tired. Tired of everything in his life, but until this unforeseen break, he had been able to fight against it. Bury it, like it hadn't been there. Now...his body was torn, broken, damaged beyond repair, so there was nothing to do, but realize all the wrongness of his life.   
He had to face it. There was no real goodness in his life. He tried to do good, but he, himself alone, wasn't happy or hopeful. He wasn't whole. Red Hood had had a reason to live. Jason Todd wasn't that lucky. There hadn't been any big, nice aims for him since his ressurection. So he had fought. After his mind had ended up clearer (normal just wasn't the right word), he had fought for good things. The bats had hated his methods? Screw them...The innocent people had mattered, nothing else. There had been things to do, people to hurt or kill, and those had been the only things he had been good for. So he had done it.   
Now the Red Hodd was a vanished thing.   
What was left? A life? Hardly...

He felt himself...weightless, a worthless, fading shadow, a truly fucked-up ghost. Something...not reasonable to exist anymore. A mess, going against logic, the laws of nature, or whatever.   
He didn't see any use of such a life. Without Red Hood, he had nothing, his value was less-than-nothing as a disabled nobody.  
He really didn't have anything else in his life. Only the Red Hood had made him being worth something. He had never learned anything, which could have shown a new direction of living for Jason Todd. He didn't have anything to do, couldn't find anything to concentrate on.   
He had run out of opportunities.   
Well...maybe he had done it some time ago...In Ethiopia. 

He tired to see reason this way.   
Red Hood was gone. Yes. But at least he had existed, he had done things for Gotham.  
Jason Todd....was a ghost now, yes. An understandable thing, after he had died as a teenager.

He had no right to live.


	10. I won't let you drown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most unexpected time and place can be the point for your salvation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I like this one!  
> A bit boring, but it is still a good one in my eyes!
> 
> Dear readers, what do you think about the possible(!!!) romantic part of this story in it's future? Should it exist? Do you want it? 
> 
> Another question: is my knowledge correct about fanfics' forever-to-be-existence on AO3? A fanfic cannot be deleted from here, right? 
> 
> One last thing: I never thought this fic would get so....shocking amount of attention! I am a bit embarrassed about it actually! Thank you so-so-so-so-so much! :)

Tim originally had planned to sleep. A lot. Pinky-promise and all! Then he would have been rushing back to Jason, of course.  
Only after four hours a phonecall woke him up, made him freak out successfully, and made him rush back to the hospital like he was a speedster too.   
Jason's daytime caretakers had been frightened by the sudden surrender. And the lack of answers to anything they had tried. It had been an alarming thing in their eyes.   
All in all, Tim was quite grateful for the call. Better to know about everything as soon as it was possible. But he hoped it wasn't just over-reacting...and hoped desperately it wasn't something horrible.   
He arrived a bit breathlessly to Jason's door, almost knocking over a poor nurse, who was standing guard apparently.   
„Sorry, sorry! Can you tell me what happened?” he asked the younger nurse with worried eyes, taking a few huge breaths.  
„I really cannot tell, Mr Wayne” said the blond one sadly, shaking her head slowly, looking at Jason's unmoving form „He just....stopped everything, not much after you left this morning. He doesn't fight with us. At all. He doesn't try to....um...vocalize his...protests. He doesn't move either. There were already check-ups, but no signs of any damage, which could have caused such thing. Dr Connor visits every hour, but nobody knows what's the problem.”  
Tim nodded gratefully, then, slipping a few dollars into her pocket, he politely shooed her away. 

Then he gulped another giant dosage of oxygen, relaxed his posture, and turned to Jason. 

„Alright, Jay. What's the problem?” he said with a friendly, relaxed voice, approaching the bed.   
There was no answer, at all. And at first, it didn't scare Tim. But then he put a hand on Jason's head, and there was no reaction either. Jason always glared at him, or looked at him questioningly after that. Or maybe tried to shake his hand off.   
Now....Jason's eyes stared with the same emptiness into the air. And not even the monitors around were helpful. All the signs....completely normal.   
„Hey...Jason....You made everyone freak out here. Come on, let's talk!” he offered, stepping even closer, with a now bit unsure, but still friendly smile.   
The eyes stayed the same. Breathing calm and rhythmic. Face expressionless.   
„Jason?” he asked, with worry slowly letting his claws sink into his stomach.   
This time he stepped right in front of Jason, his eyes meeting with the green-blue ones.   
„Jason...you're starting to scare me. Please. Don't do this to me. Please” he whispered, not letting himself turn away from the so alien look. Jason had been one of the most emotional one in the whole family. If nothing else, hurt or anger always had fulfilled him, that had been his power. That had made him....blaze.   
Tim, as the seconds passed, felt more and more scared. His fear slowly but surely started to strangle him. Jason looked just like a person who was...gone.   
This was the thing that Tim tried desperately to prevent. The thing which filled him with dread. 

Was Jason gone?   
The one, who had filled him with amazement as a child.   
The one, who had defeated nature itself and had made it back.  
The one, who had made the whole family, whole Gotham, even some parts of the multiverse feel thunderstruck?  
The one, who had fought his damnedest with himself, after all the horrors he had been through, and who had won even that fight??

Tim felt a terrified gasp escaping between his lips. He searched and searched Jason's eyes, but they were unresponsive....calm....  
The world felt suddenly very-very cold and hollow. And his heart started to break.   
„You cannot leave. You cannot...You cannot....Jason, you can't do this....We just...just started to have...something! You are part of the family. You are part of Gotham...You are part of so many important things, Jay! You are important! You are...You are....You are a fighter....you are....a vigilante, for God's sake! You are still here! You are alive, and I'm here, with you! I' not gonna leave you! You are part of me! You can't leave....You can't, you can't, you can't”  
Tears started to flow from his eyes, as he stepped closer, next to Jason, and leaned over him, hugging him stupidly with one, barely-touching arm.   
His shoulders started to shake with his silent breakdown, with the weight of his failure.   
He had been here and it hadn't been enough. He hadn't been able to help, it hadn't mean anything. 

„I'm so sorry....” he whispered. 

 

 

The world was so quiet. It was the most surprising and pleasant thing, for Jason.   
The golden particles -maybe parts of long lost people, maybe this was stardust, building up everything and everyone in the world- danced wonderfully, fulfilling his vision and his mind.   
It was a calm thing to do. Everything was calm.   
It was nice. 

Something...over this....had made some disturbance, but it hadn't been that powerful to do any harm.   
So he hadn't cared.   
Time flew, but he couldn't measure it. And didn't care. The particles danced, he gazed up nonstop, and the world was...peaceful. 

Until...another weak or distant disturbance arrived. He didn't care. There was no reason to care.   
Nothing could reach him here, because nothing was here, and he was absolutely fine with it.   
But then....something blue-grey slipped into his line of sight.   
What happened? What happened to the golden dancing?   
The blue-grey was....immersive. It enticed him. He just didn't know what to do with it. This colour was calling out to him. The golden particles hadn't done anything like that.  
Suddenly the blue-grey got closer. It was nearing him with a surprising speed, and Jason still didn't figure out what to do.   
The blue-grey thing devoured him, then disappeared. Darkness covered the world, and Jason didn't like it at all. He felt confused. Why was his peaceful silence and neverchanging world taken away?

Warm droplets. One after the other. More and more.   
Something warm and wet hit his skin again and again.   
His face. He started to feel it. He hadn't had it for....how much time....?  
Where was his body? His parts? Which belonged to him, which should have been easy to find....

Another warm droplet...

And as he was sinking back into himself, feeling more and more confused, and not satisfied with the process at all, suddenly sounds appeared again for him.

„I'm so sorry” he heard a defeated whisper, and that was the moment, when Jason...arrived back into himself.   
And burning hatred filled him in a heartbeat. 

Tim heard and felt the huge intake of breath beneath himself, and looked down with honest shock at the small whine.   
Jason stared back at him with fury, then the green-blue eyes started a mad lookign around in the room.  
Tim couldn't hold back his tears, not when relief, so enormous it hurt, crashed into his soul.   
„Jason” he gasped, quickly enveloping the other's head in a hug again.  
He got a nasty, although weak knock to his jaw as an answer, and a hiss.   
„Whatthe....?” he pulled back a little and stared at the still furious eyes. He felt anger at first, then some of his worry clawing at him again, and he started speaking quickly:  
„What happened? What was wrong? You scared me so much! You were totally unresponsive, Jay! Nobody knew what happened! Why didn't you answer?!”  
Jason stared back at him, like it had been all his fault. And Tim felt insecure in the open fire of those eyes.  
„Did...did I do something?” he whispered, icecold dread filling him again.   
'Fuck you! Not everything is about you!' answered suddenly Jason, by moving his lips, his old self showing itself for a second.   
„I know that” answered Tim, a bit calmer now. Oh, he wouldn't have thought ever, that Jason's grumpy behaviour would be a comforting thing one day!   
'Then go to Hell! I don't need you! I don't want you here!'  
„And what do you want?” asked quickly and sharply Tim. Sometimes an attack could be the best protection...especially in their family....  
'I want you to leave, for fuck's sake!' and during that sentence, a strange shadow passed through Jason's eyes, and Tim freaked out again a little thanks to it.   
„Never” he answered matter-of-factly „Choose something else!”  
Jason only turned his head away, as an answer.   
„Please...?” Tim asked quietly, looking at Jason with worry. Something was still...wrong. Unusually wrong.   
When he got no answer, he rounded the bed and planted himself in front of Jason again. This time with determination in his eyes.   
„It's time for you to stop acting like this! I freaked out, and the staff here too, because of...your tantrum, or anger, or self-pity, or I don't know what! God knows! You don't do anything to help, Jason!” Obviously somewhere he crossed a line....He wanted anger, he wanted Jason to climb out from his hole, but only by arguing, if nothing else could help. Not by breaking him even more.   
So the next words from Jason's lips felt like a punch. A bad one.   
'You never thought, with that so famous, oh-so-brilliant brain of yours, that it would be the thing I wish for?! I don't want your help! Or anyone else's!!' Jason even bared his teeth for him while he spat out the words.   
„That's....unacceptable” Tim squeezed out the words, and tried to do his best to fight against a dark feeling in his gut. This would not end well....  
'No, it's the only good thing for me! To end this misery! There is nothing left! You just don't want to see it! I cannot understand why the fuck is that, but this is the truth, you idiot!'   
Tim quickly glanced at the monitors, which told him that Jason was too close to be dangerously riled up. He needed Jason to calm down, but...it seemed impossible now.   
„Please...calm down...” he whispered.  
'Fuck you!'   
Jason was trembling at this point, glaring at him with anguish.  
Tim took a huge breath, then stepped closer.   
„You cannot give it up” he said quietly, again, then looked into Jason's eyes, to let him see his own pain. A tiny, mad laugh answered him.  
'Are you this blind? This is not about me giving it up! It, as you call it, was taken from me! Look at me! There is nothing for me to decide about! It happened, it's already over! Look at me! My story is over! Just the fucking writer forget to check the ending and he fucked it up for me!'  
Tim couldn't take it anymore, and he put a hand again to Jason's head, not letting the other shook him off this time.   
„This is...not the truth, or not the whole truth. I know...you are hurt...And scared. I know and I understand it. It is perfectly...justified. You can be angry, Jason. You are right about it. You didn't deserve this...But there is still....a life for you. I am serious about this.' he had to fight for every word. He had to fight with his terror, with Jason's half-mad glaring, with his insecurity about not being the good person for this role....But he was the one in the room with Jason in this moment...  
Jason trembled under his hand, and this time a terrible fear appeared in his eyes. Nothing could have prepared Tim for what happened next...  
„Life? Life?! To do what? To be a crippled homeless nobody, at Crime Alley probably, waiting for someone to finish what the Joker started!? To go to a home, where I will spend a miserable life, until I find the opportunity to end it finally?? To go back TO FUCKING ARKHAM?? What could possibly be there out FOR ME STILL?!” The screams, croaks and unnatural-sounding screeches filled the room in a horrific chaos, and Tim felt his nerves crying out for mercy with it. Jason's eyes were worse. They told Tim how Jason was burning, getting lost in his agony - and fear of life and hoping.   
He slammed his hand down on Jason's mouth, and both of them trembled, staring at each other with horrified eyes, while the machines started beeping more and more quickly and alarmingly around them.  
„Nnno....no.....No, Jason, no” Tim started, fighting for words with himself again „Never there. Or anywhere similar. I swear to you. I swear.” he stated in a quiet, yet....unquestionable, powerful voice. He was still trembling, he needed to steel his soul to show such strength and reliability. But he did it.   
He didn't let Jason speak for long, long minutes. Only when the monitors told him the worst was over. And when their eyes, holding onto each other, were clear. Or at least...free from the worst of hellish fear.   
„No screaming” he ordered, suppressing any trembling in his voice.   
'I have nothing' Jason said slowly, looking away from him finally.   
„That's not true. You have to see it! Jason, I know this looks like....something taking away the value of your life, something....with a too huge and negative impact on your life, but that's not the whole picture! You don't have to feel so hopeless. There is still much waiting for you, Jason!” he sounded convincing, at least for himself, but he knew this wouldn't be easy...  
And it wasn't.   
'You are wrong” mumbled Jason, making it difficult to understand.   
„No, I'm not! You will make it out from this hospital, and you will have a life!” Tim quickly pressed his palm under Jason's chin, and slowly lifted his head, until the older had to look into his eyes. Jason met with his steely willpower, radiating from those usually cold or at least cool eyes. He had to look down soon.   
'I am disabled' mumbled Jason softly, like it was an early goodbye, after getting the news about a terminal disease.   
„And it doesn't matter! It's not that terrible! Others live like this during their whole lives, from day one! And they still have a full life!” he argued.   
'I am not them!' Jason argued back, looking up with a pained expression.  
„But you will be able to live just like them” Tim said a little more softly „So many people can find an aim for themselves after a terrible event. You are from Gotham, you are from Crime Alley! Your life, your whole being is just another synonym for the word 'defiance', and you lived up to this during your existence! You showed for everyone, every being in this world, that there can always be a meaning to live for!”  
'But not for me' whispered Jason, in a defeated way.   
„Of yourse you are not an exception, silly!” he said with kindness in his voice, and he caressed Jason's head in an absent-minded way.   
'Tim, I am not the Red Hood anymore!' argued Jason back, and some of the flames of that horrible torment resurfaced, so Tim stared into his eyes with inexorable calmness.   
„I know. It doesn't matter” he answered quietly.  
'It doesn't matter?! You...'  
Before Jason could have started an agitated episode, Tim's hand slammed down onto his mouth again.   
„Stop. And let me explain! I know the Red Hood is lost. But you are not! And that's the only thing that matters now. You are alive! And. You. Will. Have. A. Life.”  
He waited a few seconds, checking Jason's eyes for any suspicious clues, then took his hand away.   
'That's what I'm talking about! I have nothing else. I....'  
This time it was enough to lift his hand to make Jason shut up.  
„You are more than the Red Hood, Jason!” he said with that same unbreakable, powerful tone.  
'Bullshit'  
„No. You are wrong. You are more, just like you always have been. Maybe the Red Hood is lost. It doesn't matter. You still have a sharp mind and a good soul.”  
'I've never learned anything else than how to be a good soldier!' spat out Jason, this time with a painful expression. The very words from a memorial...  
He looked up to Tim's eyes, pleading for...something.  
'I am nothing more than a fighter, a killer, a mob-boss....'  
Tim let himself smile, a tired but obviously loving smile filling his face with life.  
„It doesn't matter, Jason. You will learn now then. Anything you want. Everything you missed. You have time. You can choose, you can do whatever you want. You aren't dead! You can restart. We have so many possibilities.” he smiled when he leaned down again, hugging Jason. Because all that....whirlwind of emotions he saw in Jason's eyes while he talked...The questioning, doubting, then uncertainly....oh so scaredly building up...something...Tim couldn't make himself call it hope.....  
It was too much.   
„Just.....don't you dare to skip like that again....” he murmured.   
Jason buried his face into his neck, and Tim didn't say a word, didn't move, didn't even took a huge breath for his own overwhelmed soul, when he felt soft, warm tears on his skin.


	11. Hospital days: warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domestic(ish) things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, let's have this conversation (kind of)!
> 
> First thing is first: thank you for your attention! I don't have self-confidence (no jokes, no exaggeration), so it means a lot to me. Seriously. 
> 
> Second: I love this story. (And it's cousin, which I don't really know when to put up here, onto AO3. Or if I should at all.) But the main thing: there is a chance I won't be able to update normally. Sorry for that! But I will never leave this story. I promise. 
> 
> Third: I did a LOT of thinking about this fic's future. I think it's only fair if I tell the results now.   
> 1\. This fic decided to write itself into a JayTim-one. Sorry if this is a disappointment for anyone! I am surprised as well. (If it means anything: the cousin-fic is not like that!)  
> 2\. I originally planned this fic to be different. Now I am quite disappointed with it. I think I should have done better. I doubt I will rewrite it, I can't see how to do better. But I will be more careful in the future. I want this to be a good one! I will try to get back to the original train of thoughts. But this means not-really-good-quality for some chapters from now on. Sorry. BUT! You don't have to suffer with me, and get disappointed by the long, detailed ones, which won't be showing anything big or exciting.   
> This is my solution:  
> Wait for this warning's disappearance: BOTSC!!!! (Beware of the shitty chapter!)
> 
> Thanks for reading

It hadn't been a victory. At all. Everyone knew that. Nobody could count it as that, it was clear!   
Jason couldn't have been healed by one simple conversation.   
So, Tim didn't have illusions about that day either. 

But....something was different. 

And Tim found himself more and more times lying next to Jason with an enormous, warm, almost lazy feeling enveloping his whole being.   
Life seemed to be so much better. He couldn't help it. It felt that way.   
And he had no intention to fight against that feeling. 

The change was almost palpable.   
Everywhere around them. 

Thanks to some crazy miracle, or God knows what, they had done a step to the right direction. 

And so, Tim couldn't do much about getting helplessly...content. The feeling fed itself in his soul, until it made him „almost lazy”, basking in the warmth of these days.   
He could treasure every small thing pointing to said right direction, he could feel some satisfaction over every tiny success.   
Because they were happening!   
Jason let him smuggle food (never too much, with a tiny-tiny spoon, and only the semi-solid art of Alfred) into his mouth these days, didn't struggle that much with his restraints, listened when Tim talked to him softly to lead him out of the darkness and terror, when they were strangling him.   
Touches were -almost- appreciated. At least there was close to none fighting against it. 

This warm feeling was one of the best things ever had happened to Tim. Without doubt.   
Tim could finally let himself feel some confidence, he could let himself think that Jason was getting better. Slowly. 

He simply lay next to Jason all day, sometimes watching a movie with him, sometimes reading for him, satisfaction swelling in him. And that satisfaction after every small and not-depressed talk, or a normally consumed meal (still: art of Alfred) only grew. 

Jason was quiet mostly. At first, it had worried everyone, even Tim. But they had learned soon that it was a good sign, and smiles slowly reappeared at that part of the hospital wing. Nurses smiled at Jason, mostly when he couldn't see. Doctors smiled with a reassuring light at Tim, mostly when Jason couldn't see. Tim smiled at everyone, mostly at Jason, making sure he could see. 

It was a shock how much Jason could sleep. Even without drugs, he could fall asleep in the middle of a conversation. Tim often stared with disbelief at the other when such thing happened, until one of the nurses explained it.   
After that he loved it.   
Apparently Jason needed a lot of rest. Mostly, to heal from his injuries. Then, to make up for all the times he hadn't been able to rest (the nurse only guessed it, Tim could see the truth right in that second). And finally: he had done a lot of self-harm since his awakening, not to mention always being stressed or scared. All of that could have been exhausting for a healthy organism, but Jason...he had been far, far, really-really far from it, even when he'd stared to do everything to lessen his chances at healing.   
Simply leaving stress behind had done miracles. And made Jason feel his energy-deficit. So, Jason slept a lot. With a truly relaxed expression in his face. Even his body felt a lot less tense, when Tim lied next to him. 

Tim couldn't remember when he started to keep a position around Jason, which let him keep a hand on Jason's head all the time. One hand softly playing with the other's hair, the other flying over the tablet's screen, brain flying with the speed of light through plans and tasks. His life, his (quite amazing, because of unforeseen efficiency) new routine built up itself around him without him noticing. And he was okay with it.   
Tim was okay with everything these days.   
Jason's breath warming his shirt, when the other actually buried his face into Tim's chest to sleep. The monitors showing him good numbers or nice, rhythmic signs. Nurses entering and leaving, smiling at them, at each other, at whatever. No real, heated arguments between them, when Jason was awake. A sweet, somehow promising calmness enveloping their part of the sixth floor in the hospital.

Tim felt....content. And he was not ashamed for that!  
The whole, messed up domesticity of the situation became...a special kind of lovely, from a certain point of view.   
Tim decided to keep that view, even if purple-flame-breathing bunnies would start to fall from the sky.


	12. Tim had to accept it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOTSC

 

At first he had done everything he had been able to, counting every aspect of his existence, to not make mistakes, not fall behind with any kind of task, not fail anyone....

 

Tim had fought with himself, with exhaustion, with his more and more dysfunctional concentration, every damn day.

He just hadn't been able to see any other way to...live.

During the day his routine had been simple:

  * visit Jason during....dawn's messed up hours after nonexistent or too short sleep/get up from their shared bed and check Jason

  * go to WE, save it from falling apart/make the business soar into the sky (and beyond)/keep everything in a nice shape

  * call the hospital

  * argue with idiots in his office, in a conference room, in the middle of a corridor, or by phone, by email, by classical hand-written letters (it had happened.....not even once)

  * have a few blessed minutes for his very own ideas, even play with them a little during totally rare and precious days, when the lunch break could be a break even for him

  * call the hospital

  * get rid of the very last idiots who just couldn't do their jobs and then leave the building long after the previously planned time

  * run to Jason, keep him busy with a conversation while the nurses connect their bag of goods to his feeding tube, accept failure and hold him down while the nurses do their job

  * have the usual, horrible chat with Jason's doctors (the worst always has to be the psychiatrist, because fuck his life, right?) about Jason's not-really-getting-better-with-the-speed-they-estimated-before

  * murmur some nonsense softly to Jason, until his meds after the trauma kick in, and he falls asleep

  * go home and check his laptop for anything and everything his studies could, would need from him

  * try to do some of the tasks for his worst professors, or try and find something for their worst cases so they could get solved....one day

  * call the hospital

  * look around in his apartment and loose hope

  * try to do soe clean-up

  * order pizza

  * drink his sixty-second cup of coffee

  * evening arrives




 

Then:

  * wake up, let Jason go from his arms

  * check as many things as possible with his phone from the world

  * have the horrible conversations with the nurses and doctors, grit his teeth

  * go to WE for a few hours (and be totally useless, because of worry for Jason), grit his teeth

  * go home, give it up after fifteen minutes

  * go to the hospital, help with the feeding, talk with Jason, help him fall asleep

  * go home, try his best (worst professors called that way for a reason) with college-tasks, fight with the laundry, forget to eat, drink coffee

  * go to the hospital

  * evening




 

Then:

  * basically move into the hospital

  * give up the hope for his apartment's hygiene

  * organize everything for WE or his studies with the help of his phone or laptop




 

Red Robin had done everything to show their city his determination and usefulness.

He had fought like a maniac even with the most pathetic robbers, had flown through the city like a workaholic version of Batman, had jumped into the worst fights with their worst enemies with a worrisome recklessness.

 

He had only checked Jason through his window twelve or twenty times (every night).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After Poison Ivy had had to dig him out from one of her flowerbeds (a giant, wild red and deep purple....flower-ish something had simply......grown around him(??) and then it had pushed him under itself with...tendrils....and he hadn't been able to move an inch...and that fucking plant had purred!! He had been ready to swear to anything in this universe it had purred!!!), Tim had reached a point where he hadn't been able to deny the facts anymore.

He had needed a break to sit down and think.

 

He had done it right in front of a concerned Poison Ivy, still covered in green jelly.

 

„I think...I can't do that much work....I...planned.....to do...you know...before....” he had mumbled to the ground, keeping his eyes on his boots.

„It seems to be a right conclusion”

Tim had stared up with wide eyes. He hadn't thought the woman had stayed!

Poison Ivy had stared him down as an answer to his shock. Her arms had been crossed tightly in front of her, her foot had been tapping an impatient rhythm on the ground.

„Whatever is your problem, you will only get yourself killed this way! You were stupid. No other words can describe your behaviour!”

Her tone had been judging, scolding, arrogant and.....Tim hadn't had anything to argue with her words. So he had jumped back on his feet and....

„I won't fight with you kid, you showed me just enough tonight! I'm no Joker to kill Robins!”

Wrong words. Too much arrogance with them.

She hadn't even seen Red Robin moving. The giant blow had made her fall and Red Robin had stood over her, with blazing eyes and with a horrible expression on his face.

Poison Ivy had gulped once.

„Sorry...”

The whisper hadn't been a thing Red Robin could have prepared himself for. He had started to shake with.....Heaven knows what.....

The woman had sighed once and then she had looked up at him simply with understanding eyes.

„I heard....rumors...From Arkham.....And I am not a heartless bitch. Even if my sympathy goes for plants, I know sympathy, okay? I shouldn't have said that....And I'm sorry? Okay?„

her searching gaze had made Red Robin more and more uncomfortable.

„I don't think you should be out here. Not now” her eyes had hardened” You fucked up this fight. You were truly lucky Benito isn't the mutant I originally aimed for” she nodded to the giant growing-around-could-be-a-fighting-method flower.

Before Tim could have said anything, Poison Ivy had stared into his eyes, and all the strict coldness and calculating intelligence, all that _knowing_ in her eyes had made him shut up. Again.

„I seriously think that you...have other places to be....instead of....being crazy out here. Gotham has enough crazies, haven't you heard before?”

The deep moment had passed. Poison Ivy had let it go, had made it go. In just one sentence she had gripped Tim's heart, had squeezed it, once, and then...she had let it go...unharmed....

 

She had stood up, and they had stared at each other for one, impossibly quiet moment.

 

And then a tendril had knocked Red Robin out.

 

After that fucking uncomfortable happening, Tim had done his fair share of thinking-through. And he had decided that:  
a, he would never like Poison Ivy  
b, he would have to give up some of his obligations....

 

He had to let Barbara's Birds take over the city.

He had to accept that Dick and Damian would be the main protectors of the city.

He had to accept that Steph couldn't visit, the news about Jason...still too much for her, and she focused on her civil life these days for some reason, mostly keeping touch with them thanks to Oracle.

 

Tim had to accept many things....

 

Mostly arguments.

With Jason.

 

About him, being too self-sacrificing.

 

He had accepted it.

 

 

 

 

His new life had become very...simple very quickly.

As he saw it, things could have been worse.

 

He more or less lived in the hospital these days.

 

Sometimes he wondered about Red Robin and Red Hood, both of them missing could end up as a problem, but......

Jason was watching that awful movie (a funny version of Tarzan) with him, and sometimes he weakly snorted after the most pathetic jokes.

 

He hated not being able to yell at his employees, well, not personally, and he hated his fear of WE's falling....but....

Jason took one big intake of air a few minutes before, and then carefully moved his puppet-like-arm. Only a few centimeters (he could only do that when Tim was with him, and his straps were loosened), but it wasn't for trashing or self-destruction. Jason simply tested the limb, how it could work, how would it hurt to try.....

It was a shockingly normal thing, and Jason didn't even realize how Tim was staring at him through all that with amazement. Jason was watching the limb with curious eyes, concentrating on the task.

 

Tim slowly but surely learned to love this lazy life, this slow flow of existence, where everything was a ridiculous wonder, the center of all that was the broken Jason, and everything he did was a semi-miracle.

 

Sometimes he got the impression that he was slowly turning into a dazzled parent's perfect school-example, but.....

Days were there which filled him with....happiness....  
Because there were no fights, Jason watched with him a whole season of some TV show, then ate his food, which Tim had brought, and he seemed to be less and less terrified when nurses came in.

 

 

 

 

Every quick visit to the Manor happened the same way these days: getting in, telling Dick that Jason was alive and getting better, listening to Dick's desperation and insecurity (he couldn't figure out what to do, it was clear), leaving Dick somewhere in the middle of it (Tim's patience was weakening, so this part was getting shorter and shorter), not paying attention to Damian's glaring, speaking a bit with Alfred, letting him know about Jason's state with much more detail than within the Dick-suffering-parts he could, then leaving. He never stayed for a whole hour.

Alfred's packages became more and more complicated, and they grew in size too, during this time. Tim was always grateful beyond his vocabulary (in many languages) for that.

 

He didn't really have the time to buy various, more-or-less-liquid food, which would look, smell and most importantly taste awesome. Nor the creativity.

And he couldn't cook anything. The last attempt had ended with him redecorating (rebuilding) his kitchen in his own apartment.

Alfred not just did the job, but he did it more than perfectly. All of his...well...”creations” were not just nice, but really tempting! And Tim could bring a _ **lot**_ of (truly needed) miracles-in-tupperwares, not just a few poor ideas of meals, like he whould have done, with his desperate storage-hunts. Just like...during the first three days. At least he had been intelligent enough to ask for help after those disasters.   
Alfred was a gift from the gods. He constantly experimented with tastes, colours, textures, sizes, densities, chew-able-ities (who the hell would have thought that some versions of mousse-like things could be almost „programmed” to meld in a mouth with a certain speed???), always keeping in mind that the result had to be nourishing.

In Tim's eyes he was an irreplaceable element of The Plan.

 

The Plan was to keep Jason alive, and slowly but surely make him recover.

 

Quite simple.

 

 


	13. Hospital days: "Letter"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason's thoughts (during a not really good day)
> 
> Yes, he is talking to you, reader!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOTSC
> 
> One more thing: WARNING!!!! So: if anybody is in a hospital right now, this chapter can be bad for you, skip it, nothing new or interesting is here, okay? I don't want anyone to feel bad! I had to spend some time in a hospital, years ago, because of an injury which changed my life (not as deeply as Jason's, but my situation was a bit similar), so these are mostly my feeling-memories, okay? Not a realistic picture!!!
> 
> Since I belong to the med-field now, I am saying that hospitals are places where people go to get better, those are the places to heal, get help with sickness, injury, pain, find some comfort - so just because it was a horrible time for me, back then, don't let this picture get stuck into your head!
> 
>  
> 
> And keep in mind: Jason isn't totally okay, and not just physically. 
> 
> Thanks for reading

You know what is the most fucked-up thing in a hospital?   
Your mind.  
Even if you are not a crazy looser like me. 

Many people (I bet they are the ones who never had to spend more than a few hours in a hospital, and never for something major) think that all the caretaking, all the rest, all the calmness to help you get better – can be nice. 

Fuck them all. They should switch places with dying kids, with the innocents who got shot in a gangwar, suffering grandmas who will be missed so much...

Fuck everyone. 

I didn't ask for this. I still don't believe in it that much, but Tim....

 

 

No.  
Forget that. 

 

 

 

Your mind is the most fucked-up thing. And there is no escape from it.

You have to lie in your bed all day, and....thoughts will come and go. Some of them will never go. 

The pain of the body? It is a horror in itself. It just....won't let you have some rest. Even with meds, the pain can still be there, only in a weaker form. Sometimes you can get lucky, and the meds finally, finally (!!!!) wipe the sensation away, but then....it's so clear that something is wrong, that you are filled with drugs...Sometimes that so clear spot, where your senses' report should be filling your brain, can me annoying so Goddamn much!!!

Hell....

It's either that, or the pain, which is there, there, you cannot distract yourself, because with pain it's not like that, no, no, it's NOT like that, it's there, it eats you away, and your nerves are sooo fucking strained because of that....  
or...

or there is the hellish burning of your mind. 

How the fuck you're supposed to get rid of that? 

A sick joke it is, to say: you cannot outrun your mind. (In my case, it is really fucking true...one leg and all...)

Here, lying in the middle of your mess, you have to face any things. The pain, eating you away, the weakness, claiming you more and more, as your body from the past disappears, since you cannot work out.....the darkness.....circling around you....It all makes you realize certain things. 

Like....you don't deserve anything else. 

Or....no one cares about your suffering. 

Or...there is no way out.....

You know how terrible that thought is? That small, simple, shitty little thing? All alone, in itself? 

There. Is. No. Way. Out. 

You are closed into a broken, damaged, ruined, messed-up, pathetic, useless, hopeless version of yourself. Until your dying day. Nothing changes this. Nothing will. 

The darkness is a more constant thing in me than anything else. Or around me. Or whatever. 

It speaks to me. 

And I just cannot not listen. 

It speaks about simple facts, all of that is true. I know it all. So...no reason to deny it.   
It warns me about how hopeless this situation is.   
I lost my leg. My hands are more useless than not. On bad days it is an exhausting task to move my head.   
So....vigilantism is over. Or crime-lording. 

Arkham is still a possibility.

Whatever Tim said....Promised....

 

 

I have no idea why Tim is here still. 

He....well....When he is here, everything is a bit easier. Existing is easier. When he speaks to me, it honestly and really brings me an ease from the pain. 

But I don't know why is he here with me. Which makes me see reason in the dark whispering's warning: I cannot know when he will leave. 

He won't stay. I am not that stupid to believe he could stay with a disabled nobody. Especially one who is quite far from being mentally healthy. 

No reason to trust in his words. Long-term, I mean.  
About the present....  
These days....Sometimes I feel he is the only one to anchor me into this reality. 

 

I whish he would realize how seriously I don't care about the stupid movies he makes me watch...Anything is fine. Silence would be perfectly fine too, as long as he is here. 

He can...make me believe that the next....minute or hour can be better. Somehow. 

So, yeah, he could really just do his job, or something for his teachers or Batman, or I dunno....and let me be, without the horrible comedies he keeps showing me....

Hell, another one....Ben Stiller....and a museum.....Greeeaaattt.......

It doesn't matter. Maybe he likes them?   
It's not like I have anything to do or anywhere to go...

 

Cry me a river, this movie will be the death of me!!!

 

You know......There is a certain point, where your cries get louder, more desperate, your heart becomes a shaking, dying mess in your chest – but you actually keep on living.   
Crying....Yes....At that point it seems like crying should never end. Because all of it is to much, too horrible.   
And the punch line?  
No matter how much you cry or how hard.....it won't help.

The point where you really understand how bad the change is, where you realize how constanst the feeling of loss could be from now on....When it really sinks in....That's when you crying takes over...

But for nothing.

There is no way to tear this desperation out, I cannot imagine a method to cut out the horror from your heart to save yourself. 

 

I couldn't save myself.  
Ever. 

Now, when I think back on them, I am certain about the people who saved me in the past: they should have felt regret for their decision later.

I mean....I am not a good guy.   
Well, I tried to do some good with my fucking life, afterall. I tried to....reach a point, where I am....alive because I do a needed thing. At least.   
But I know how my kills are seen. 

Well...now, I am not good anymore for anything, not even for „helping with the special pests”. 

I really dunno what's gonna happen. 

What's the plan? What can be the thing Tim's planning?

 

Maybe it is stupid to wonder about that. Or about anything.

There is nothing, I could do about...anything...

 

 

You know.....this is why your own mind is the worst thing in a hospital for you. 

 

 

If you are anything like me: you will drown in your own thoughts.


	14. Hospital days: Remembering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some details about the hospital days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big break. A major happening is coming into this story, and I just couldn't grasp the pieces to write sg good before that, which could lead us there. 
> 
> At least, I could finally find my way back to my story!! YAAAY
> 
>  
> 
> P.S.: I will miss Linkin Park the way it was......Does anyone else love their music here?

Days were flying around them, making a blurry, colourful chaos. Their bubble of existence in it was peaceful still.

  
  


Tim had no words to describe or explain their situation anymore, not even to the mirror in the bathroom. He didn't really care either.

Sometimes he did short walks to the nearest places, which had good coffee. Sometimes he just ent a few steps and stood in front of the windows, peeking out to the world through the curtains' gap.   
Really rarely he visited WE.

Bruce had disappeared with other embers of the League one and a half month before these blurry days.   
According to Oracle's dry, resignated messages, nobody knew anything about them.

Dick was absolutely the same about their mess, so as Damian.

Tim mostly needed his walks these days to make one thing crystalclear for himself: he'd truly started to accept this new life of theirs. And there was no reason to make a fuss about this acceptance.   
What good that would do to anyone?

They needed to go forward....

  
  


  
  


This time he arrived back to a sleeping Jason. He stood close to the door in the room, hot coffee in hand, and stared in silence, with a calm expression on his face.

His.... _brother_....wasn't a delightful sight. Tim's brain's rational part knew that, perfectly well. But there was another part, which had grown stronger and stronger during the passing weeks, and it was content like a well-fed baby seal.

Jason was still alive. He was breathing, his heart was beating, his hands would both get an operation in one or two weeks, and then he could start trying to use them. In physiotherapy. Under supervision.   
His artificial leg was still the promise of the future.

But they **would** have that future, that was for sure. And that was much more than anything Tim could have hope for, in the beginning.

Tim sighed once, without a sound, and walked to the window again.

  
  


Jason was....still a freaking-fucking difficult person. He just....he....well....He couldn't accept his condition too nicely. There was no mercy in how Jason see himself, in his injured state. So, it was a true vicious circle how Jason couldn't stop hating himself, his damaged body, the hospital, the tasks which could have lead to getting better....and by that he successfully ruined his chances, day by day, to heal.....which meant even more self-hatred and anger and hurt.....Jason just couldn't find peace in himself with his new body.

It wasn't like there was no progress at all. Tim made sure about that. It was just like sparring, to keep convincing Jason about (totally average) things and cooperation every day.   
And Tim could beat Jason.

But it all could have been so much better....

Tim slowly started to drink his coffee, it's now tolerable heat making it a goddamn blessing.

The younger boy turned his back to the window (it wasn't the world, which gave him the needed answers, only his very own mind) and let the white-grey room's atmosphere devour him. Weeks ago it had been only agony. He had only seen suffering here. Then he had learned to see it differently. Accept it all, as their present, and then he had stopped fighting against it. Now it was quite homey. And his chance to tear apart a foreseen future.

Jason's huge medical bed, the warm blankets Tim had bought for him, the white lights, all the monitors in a semi-circle behind the bed and some of them next to it.....

An armchair to the left, with a small, pathetic table. Tim had brought the armchair here, from his apartment, so he could work from here faking normalcy. The table was the original ugly-brown-thin-wodden (good for nothing) thing the hospital provided. He'd just had to move it from it's original place, next to Jason's bed it had been totally useless.

They didn't keep anything in the room's narrow closet.

Tim's few belongings, which he wanted to keep with himself, stayed in a duffel bag, under the table. A spare laptop, which he almost never used, and never had had anything important on it, stayed on the table.

  
  


All in all: nothing much. Jason was the only thing that mattered here anyway.  
  


The young man in the bed looked better than the one he had found here the first time. He looked alive, at least. His breathing was rhytmic, not too fast (finally!), and his heart-rate was absolutely normal. His face was relaxed, in this position he looked like a resting, healing patient.

Well, a patient, who was kept tied to his bed in Tim's absence. But the huge straps were not the sources of their arguments anymore (a big step forward).

Tim turned his head a bit to the side, and let his mind learn the details again. This quiet afternoon was perfect for calm thinking, not rushing with anything, so he let his eyes check Jason, searching for anything new (the chance for that was close to none, but....). After this he would be able to think about a way to tell Jason his upcoming operations.....

  
Jason had lost a giant part of his weight, all in all. His face looked a bit more angular now thanks to it. There was no life in his colours, but Tim couldn't complain, the whiteness of his skin or the total lack of shining in his unruly hair was nothing depressing for them. The loss of muscle tissue **was** a problem. First of all: the more Jason had lost, the more difficult -and painful- his therapy would be later. Second: rebuilding it would be a hard task. Hard and slow. And Tim just knew that Jason would wish to leave the hospital behind as soon as possible. More failure of wishes – more depression.

So many time had flown away. They had spent most of it together. Tim shook his head once to shake away some melancholy, and let out an impatient breath. No brooding!

Yes, he had been here for a long time.   
He had been here to learn Jason's protests against bathing, changes of his bandages or feeding. Reasons for that had been: pain and fear of more pain. Simple as that.   
_'No....No! Stop! I had enough! Don't! DON'T! Don't touch me! NO!' Of course Jason hadn't had his voice then, so it had been forming the words and croaking. Broken pleas and cries for mercy._

He had been there during that two nights when Jason just hadn't been able to stop crying. Tim hadn't been able to understand the whole reasoning, but somehow Jason had created a maniac thought about Arkham-workers being in the hospital, who had come for him. No reassurances from anybody could have calmed him down. At first the nurses had been given orders to sedate him, but Jason had been so stressed that even those hadn't made him relax, only mumble about torture and being scared. When he had been totally knocked out by meds, it had been better. Bit when he had woken up.....With all the other drugs in his body already, and his monitors not showing signs of a major breakdown, Jason had been left in his agony, with only mild sedatives, as a compromise. A gruesome one.   
Tim had loosened all his straps and wrapped him in a hug. At least by that Jason had been able to breathe a bit easier. (Everybody had had the mind to understand why Jason had not been able to stop freaking out about those, when he had had a bad day....) He had murmured him silly sweetnesses and quiet promises nonstop, why the other had trembled in his arms, and tried to bury his face into Tim's chest.   
_'I am scared....I am scared.....I am so scared....Tim, help me....I am scared.....God, Iamscared...IamscaredIamscared.......'_

He had been there when Jason had got a bit better and lashed out during feeding. He had had a bay day, he tried to scream again and struggled against the restraints, when they had exposed his abdomen. Nobody could have thought he would try something more.   
Tim's mind had been even sharp enough to remember **not to grab the hand.** Jason had been almost quick enough to tear out the feeding-tube, the whole thing at once, while hissing at the horrified nurses, evil hatred burning in his eyes. Thanks to Tim's quick reflexes, Jason's arm had been pushed down onto the bed, uselessly struggling with the tube, not having enough place to do anything with it, then he had been strapped down tightly again.   
The orange-ish creamy fluid had been still dripping from the bag, when Tim had decided to have a talk with the stubborn half-mad one, and pushing aside his pique he'd climbed back to the bed. Jason had turned his head away from him immediately, maybe too quickly, even.   
So, Tim had started to comb Jason's hair softly with his fingers (a thing he had sometime before found to be relaxing for Jason). A few minutes later Jason had trembled again softly, and started forming words:  
 _'I had enough.....I don't want this! I suffered enough!!_  
-I know Jason, I know this looks and feels....bad. But please, please, be patient! It will be over.  
I want it to stop!!!  
-Please.....The nurses barely touch your abdomen these days!   
I don't want it! Just stop! Stop! Stop!'

He had been there when Jason had got his first dosage of Alfred's fruity creams. He had listened to the almost painful gasps of surprise, and he had seen the tears forming on Jason's cheeks, while the other had tried to squeeze his eyes shut and not let anyone see.   
Later that day, when he had been massaging Jason's scalp absentmindedly, thinking he had been asleep for long next to Tim, suddenly a pair of cloudy eyes had stared up.  
 _'Sometimes....it's just hard to believe this is real...That I am out...Fruit.....Tim, it tasted like fruit....'_

He had been there when Jason had seen his injured hand from under the thick bandages. For the first time.   
The skin had looked like rotten meat. Reddish-greyish-blackish mess, most of it peeling off, to show wet patches of angry redness.   
Jason had been staring with shocked, wide, disbelieving eyes. Like that limb hadn't been his. Just a terrible thing, which had been thrown into his room. He had been too shocked to be more horrified or start screaming. Tim had tried to speak to him, but it had been obvious that nobody had listened....  
After the examination and the fresh bandages covering up again all the horror, Jason had buried his face into his chest, and there had been no methods, no words, no questions to make him communicate that day.  
  
  


Tim had asked himself sometimes **when** exactly he had become such a powerful source of comfort? He hadn't found any intelligent answers.   
And he hadn't cared why exactly Jason had started to behave like this...Maybe he had reached a point where he'd just needed comfort (although Jason had only accepted Tim's closeness) really badly. Maybe Jason had started to think about giving a chance to Tim...?  
  
  
  


He hadn't cared about that, instead he had given whatever he had been able to.  
  


And Tim had learned Jason's body in perfect detail.   
The superficial learning had happened in the first few days, actually. The doctors and the nurses all had taught him. Where to touch. Where never touch. Where to grab when holding down is necessary. Where checking necessary for sources of possible infection or pain-reactions' causes.

Real learning had happened after. More or less thanks to coexisting with Jason. Without words. Without detailed medical examinations. He'd just paid an extreme amount of attention. Picking up everything from the other's signs. Which positions Jason had tried to be. Where he would look when fear or pain or confusion or satisfaction or self-destructive anger would fulfill him. What facial expression would mean what (or what would they try to hide). Breathing patterns' tiny changes, not even shown on the monitors. When would the hands try to move. Why. What could make Jason try to fight against feeding and why he would let them do it without a hellish scene somedays.

These days Tim knew everything about Jason's existence and his body.

Knew how the injured body worked, knew it's limits, knew it's needs.   
Knew what meant what and when Jason was trying to hide something and when he was honest.

His detective skills did more good these days than Tim could have hoped for, especially when he'd given up Red Robin for this caretaking job.

  
  


The younger one finished his coffee and sat down into the armchair. This day Jason reminded him too much of a bad day.   
So, he tried to erase the memory of begging for death, and buried himself into the dozens and dozens of articles his professor deemed essential as source for a good essay.

 


	15. Hospital days: rain and fire - turning point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking the ice. Truly. Really. Finally!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I know I promised only one chapter before the Huge Happening, but then this one would be endless....Sorrrrrryyyy.

„How are you? Pain? Fear? Hunger?” came the usual list of questions Tim always used. He watched the other with calm eyes, patiently waiting for an actual answer. As usual.

'Fine' came a short answer, as Jason looked back at him with a confused glance. As usual.  
  


The funniest thing between the two of them was this shocking loss of balance.

 

It wasn't a surprise that Tim had to do much more for their...friendship.

It had been him in the past as well, who had done the first steps, who tried to get closer, who tried to make the other one open up.  
Tim had been the one in the family, who had been able to see through all the drama, and who had tried to do the right thing. Right thing for everyone. He had been the one who had wanted to fight for clarity and a clear path for everyone in their messy lives.  
He had been the one who tried to put aside everything hurtful, everything unnecessary to reach a logical and strong spot, which could have been a good spot to start......whatever.

He had forced himself as well sometimes for all that.

  
  


He had wished for a good life for everyone in their family.

  
  


Jason had been his tough opponent.

Always.

  
  


Emotions for his coolness. Muscles for his intelligence. Pure instinct for his logic. Lashing out for his control. Pain-filled screams for his silence.

  
  


Jason had been stronger than him. So many times. So many ways....

The idol who had fallen, and who had come back, only to end up as a horrifying challenge. For Tim, Jason had been a thrilling mystery after his resurrection, and a neverending one, next to that. Whenever he had been sure earlier, that he had solved the case of Jason Peter Todd, the other had shaken him off and slipped away. Or slammed the whole family's efforts against him into the ground....

  
  


These days all of that seemed like a thing which had left them. Once and for all.

  
  


Tim had to show kindness, because it was the only warmth for Jason here. It was so obvious that he would never accept anything like that from the hospital's people, but he needed it so much.

And Tim was totally alone to do the job.

Dick couldn't make himself to visit. So Damian wouldn't come either.

Oracle had asked him once, and Tim himself had said 'no'.

Cassandra was on the other side of the planet, and everybody had agreed on leaving her out.

Stephanie couldn't even call Tim, somehow....Jason's tragedy was too much for her.

Alfred had tried to visit once, but the old butler had started crying (one of the most horrible memories of Tim now) as soon as he had seen Jason's sleeping form, so......

  
  


Tim was the only one.

So he played the part of a supporting family as well as he could. With kindness and patience and a soothing voice. Emotions and caring. All of them, not just shown, but yelled into the other's face, when necessary.

It wasn't something he was familiar with, but...at least he truly felt these, for Jason.

  
  


And he was the strong one now.

And Jason just couldn't understand it, as it seemed. (Tim wasn't that sure about his own understanding though.)

They had already been in the hospital, in that very room, for weeks now. And Jason was....at least quite co-operative now, yes. But from time to time the older boy just stared at Tim with confusion or a questioning glance, his unbreakable stubborness and resistance (to anything and everything) from the past totally missing.

  
  


It was strange. Like a powerful wall's disappearance, which they both hadn't realized earlier how desperately they'd leaned on.

  
  


But they had to go forward.

  
  


On a superficial level, they had calm, good days. Jason's operations were planned already, Tim had a plan how to tell him about them, the weather was a fucking nightmare outside, no calls came from the Manor or from Oracle, the nurses took care of Jason without terror.

Their life had a certain, weird choreography.

 

Tim's place was on the right side of Jason, mostly: pressed to his side, and a little bit higher than the other on the bed. One arm around Jason, always. (Eyes kept on the movie they watched, or on his phone in is other hand, but his mind did it's own patrol in the room every hour, checking basically everything. )

Tim couldn't tell when they'd become an always-touching-or-hugging pair of brothers, but....it was just one of the things, which basically meant their lives now, and nobody found it strange. Not anymore. Why create problems, when they had more than enough?   
It was a fundamental, untold law of their life: if it worked well, if it was comfortable, if it helped, nobody questioned it, or anything about it.

On a superficial level they were fine.

 

Jason still slept a lot.   
But he watched the movies Tim chose for them too. He swallowed the things which Tim offered, although it was clear now, that his favourites were the things with fruit. He listened to Tim, whenever the younger begged him to not struggle against the straps, the people around them trying to help, or doctors arriving to do his examinations.

These days Jason's reaction to anything, which had made him earlier scream (or trying to scream, in his case), trash or cry, was a fine, easy-to-miss trembling.

He kept his eyes on the ceiling during any kind of treatment, gasping quite quietly, trembling, not letting out a sound.

Tim, who stayed close and kept his arms around Jason's neck whenever it was possible, whispering about healing, about leaving this place as soon as he was well enough to do so – found all these new things alarming. Jason had started this „nice” behaviour a bit suddenly, and everybody was satisfied with it, but......Tim felt something else in this too. Behind the co-operative new wave, he sensed something....gloomy.

 

And then there was the silence.

After their big talk, after bringing back Jason from that freakish catatonic state...he had been quiet, yes. But he had been communicating.

He had stopped fighting with Tim, and he'd paid attention to the environment and everybody in it, so he had been....mostly easy to handle, and everyone had loved it, but now.....

Jason rarely „whispered” anything, sometimes he didn't answer to Tim's suggestions or questions at all, sometimes he only shrugged to an important sentence. And almost never looked into Tim's eyes with that honest, powerful, pure fire in his gaze, which Tim loved so much.

 

Tim was worried. He suppressed it, he didn't let anyone see it, but he felt something in his gut.

 

He could do only one thing: keep an eye on Jason, non-stop.

 

And he hated himself for being frustrated and bitter, thanks to the fact that his gut feeling was whispering about not having any progress at all.

 

                                                                                                                 **

 

The thunder came suddenly, and the roaring of it, the semi-darkness, the floods of rain changed the world. It was a mess outside, but the perfect picture of peace inside. Nothing extraordinary happened in the hospital, so Tim was mostly prepared for a quiet day.

Until Jason asked for all their blankets, and buried under them he looked....like a source of pure horror for Tim. He looked like a dying man.

Jason didn't look like himself at all.   
He was staring at the curtains calmly, maybe watching the water's patterns drawing hazy shadows on them sometimes. Maybe he was thinking about something, since without a gap this day, there really wasn't much to look at.

But this time, his face was so...open.....Tim could see Jason, for real, so clearly. The older one was lost in his own world, his eyes stared at the window without any reminders of his flame, and he looked completely resigned. Jason, the ever-fighting, human-fate-defying, blazing (even if with Hell's flames) Jason was a heartbreaking sight that way.

Tim didn't realize, not until that very moment, how strongly Jason's combative nature had still affected him. What a comfort it had been to have it still. Even if it had been all about fighting with the doctors, the nurses, Tim, or life itself.

It really had been a sign, that Jason, afterall, had been Jason still. That there had been still something important left from the young man Tim had needed in his life.

 

This resignation was an alien thing. All this silence, the peaceful, but not warm expression on Jason's face....

 

Tim gulped once, and pushed his laptop away from his lap. He _needed_ to do something! And something real, not just a small, uncertain attempt! His brain already felt overflowing with fucked-up nonsense, thanks to his stress. He needed to find a solution!!!

After their current movie's sudden pause, mildly curious eyes turned to him.

„Jay?” he started with a weak voice „I think....something is.....quite unsettled....with you....or us....”

Well.....Tim thought he could have done worse....It wasn't like anything new that he simply couldn't find the right words, when he was around Jason. And their present situation was so far away from anything well-known, he had to be grateful for every intelligent word, or everything which didn't cause an argument.

'Dunno what you're talkin about' mumbled Jason, and rubbed the side of his face into his pillow. A tired gesture. A normal one.

A lie.

Tim's eyes sharpened, and he stared down at the calm face with a new, cold fire.

„I think you....are not honest with me. Something is on your mind, and it is important, I can tell.”

'This is stupid. What do you want from me?' another tired mumble, but this time a bit uncomfortable.

„The truth. Nothing more. Nothing less. What's going on?”

'You shouldn't bother yourself with nothing. There is nothing.'

Tim's eyes reached a level of hard coldness, which could have cut through a brick wall.

„Don't try that bullshit with me! I know you! I don't need this from you! And it is not something I _deserve_! Not after everything!” the angry hissing, with which he finished was too much. And a mistake.

'Tim, I don't really know what you're thinking or what the fuck you want from me, but let me tell you one thing: I have no clue what you believe what you deserve....and I am absolutely sure that I don't care' the cruel words were almost enough. Just like the fire in Jason's eyes: it almost came back. Almost.

Tim let himself get angry. For three seconds. He stared with icy eyes into Jason's reluctant gaze, taking big breaths. Then he sighed, once, and let it all go.

He slowly and carefully wiggled himself lower on the bed, and leaned closer to the other's face, until it was obvious how strange it was for Jason. Then Tim only stared with patience for a few heartbeats into Jason's eyes, not saying a word, coldness erased from his own eyes.

„I know you are lying to me” he said finally, almost in a whisper, not breaking eye-contact for a second. Tim didn't know how exactly, but **knew** that he could make his message clear.

Jason stared back at him with alarm, then shivered, and tried to move back. Away from Tim's searching eyes.

„I want the truth, Jason! The truth!” he said with a strange weight in his -still quiet- words.

'I don't...'

„The truth!”

Jason shuddered at that and stared back at him, this time with something terribly close to fear in his eyes.

„Jason...I am with you. Can't you see it? I'm on your side. Why can't you just talk to me? I think I gave you enough reason to trust me. At least on that level! Come on....Tell me the truth” he murmured softly.

 

Greenish-blue eyes stared for an endless moment into greyish-blue ones.

Do you know the feeling of endlessness, when, somehow, everything in the universe feels to be floating and everything could be real and totally unreal, and everything you ever thought about feels possible?

This feeling fulfilled the silence between the two boys.

Neither of them showed any sign of acknowledgement, but in that silent staring-match something broken snapped back into it's right form to heal. Something settled, the way it should have happened a long time ago.

'You....you really think you know me?' asked Jason slowly, finally letting that unbelievable moment slip away.

„No, I don't think that! I _know_ that!” answered Tim with a small, hesitant, loving smile and enormous confidence.

'Tim....What is your plan with me? What could be possibly waiting for us, once I get better?'

Tim's eyes widened at the tired, dull expression on Jason's face, and at the words, which were a slap in the face. Then he realized that the question was real, not an expression of hopelessness.

„Oh God” he breathed, and slowly shook his head. Then he stared at Jason, who looked back at him with....pain....and he was so distant again!

„You really don't know? What do you think, what could be my plan?! Oh, come on, Jason!”

Jason wasn't quick enough to hide a raw, horrified expression after the last question. Tim paled a bit at that and suddenly a scary realization hit him.

„You.....you have some sick, terrible idea, right? Something about...later. Am I right?” he searched for the answer in Jason's scared eyes „Oh, shit....Of course I'm right...”

Tim huffed with real annoyance this time, then lifted a hand, and softly pressed his palm to Jason's face, his determined gaze diving into Jason's quickly widening eyes.

„The truth, Jay! What did you fabricated for yourself in that head of yours?”

Jason looked away, then back into his eyes, then simply closed his eyes. But answered, slowly, softly, sentences leaving his mouth painfully, each of them more poisonous then the one before.

'I just see the things..the way they will be. I have no future. No matter what we...might hope. There isn't much for me left. But you? You have a bright future waiting for you. You shouldn't be here. Don't think I couldn't see everything you did...for me....You shouldn't do this. But it doesn't matter. What matters is....that....our paths...are already settled. Yours, and mine. They will go separately. And I....accept this. Hell, I accepted it a long time ago! But it isn't easy. To know, that...” a long shuddering breath and some silence later Tim softly had to force out a whisper, to make him continue:

„The truth, Jay.....”

'I know that when we....say our goodbyes, I will probably face with a not so pleasant future....That's all....'

 

No. Tim wasn't just imagining it. Jason's eyes were squeezed closed too violently, his breathing was quickening, and the monitors already showed signs of his distress.

The younger one took one giant, broken breath, then leaned in closer and pressed their foreheads closer. He couldn't keep his eyes open either. This was too much.

 

„Oh my God....Jason.....Jay....Jay...Jay....You're such a fool....You are a fool! A goddamn fool!”

They breathed together for a long time, harsh, devastated gasps of air filling the centimeters between their mouths, Tim's hand caressing Jason's head, his hair, his skin, as softly as possible.

Tim had to fight back his own pain first. Then he had to struggle a bit, to gain back his composure. Only then he risked speaking. And even then his voice was quiet, hoarse and unsteady.

„Listen to me carefully now! Listen with all your might! Listen, let it sink in, and for God's sake, don't let your thoughts corrupt what I'm saying! Listen, Jason Peter Todd! I. Am. Not. Leaving. You. Alone. My plan is to help you. Help you heal, and that won't end in the upcoming weeks, or when your doctors say it's okay to leave the hospital. Don't think I will let you waste away yourself! I don't know what future you saw for yourself exactly, but if it is not something in which you are fine and have a good lfe, you were terribly wrong! I won't let anyone throw you into a fucking institute! I won't let you drown in pain and self-pity! Enough! If you thought you would end up in Arkham, I am telling you, one last time, that it. Won't. Happen. For fuck's sake, I gave you my word, I swear to you, I won't let that happen! Ever! No one will abuse you ever again! Alright? I will protect you! Okay? Oh, and if you think I sacrifice something way too valuable for this, for being with you, well, you are wrong. I make my own decisions. Alone. Don't think you can know better what's good for me. Because you don't. Chase away your demons Jason. I'm not going anywhere. Not without you.”

Tim only realized how he ran out of breath after finishing, when he started gasping.

Jason stared into his face gaping, and that was the moment when he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was a bit too dramatic as well.

But he was beyond caring. He really, honestly, totally wanted to make a point.

„So.....from now on....you can accept that we are a package deal. I won't leave you” he mumbled, knowing perfectly well that a serious blush was threatening to cover him.

He only glanced back for a second, and it was pure luck that he could catch Jason's gaze. A confused, unsure one.

„What?” he forced himself to ask.

'Why are you doing this for me?'

That was the question of the day. Maybe the question of the century.

And Tim wasn't really ready with an answer. He only shrugged.

„I am from the Bat-clan. I am stubborn as well. And I want this. You can't take it away from me” he answered finally.

'You cannot say something like that. There is no guarantee that you won't...'

„Change my mind?” he interrupted, then shook his head „Don't think you know me better than I myself” his eyes turned back to more serious and cold.

'It's not like...'

„It is exactly like that” he interrupted again „You think you know everything. You think that because of all the shitty experiences in your past with people, you know how everybody will treat you. But you are wrong. How many times we turned out to be the ones we were assumed to be, by others or by ourselves? How many times things changed? How many times happened everything totally differently from the way it should have happened...according to everybody? Tell me!”

Tim could see how doubt started to spread it's roots in Jason, so he continued:

„I am still alive, for example. Red Hood wasn't chased out from Gotham, not even when the whole Batfamily was after him. The Manor is still in one piece! Tell me, what were the odds? Damian lives there! And Steph visited quite frequently during a not too long period of time, to try improving her cooking skills.....”

Tim chuckled at the shocked expression of Jason. After everything.....Jason reacted to **that**?!

'How could be the place still in one piece?'

Tim couldn't believe it.... **That** was the thing to drag out Jason from his shell....

„I'm not saying there weren't a suprising number of....redecoration or changing of furniture.” he answered with a soft smile.

They stared at each other, the silence a bit awkward this time.

„I will prove it to you: I am not like the others in your past. And life doesn't have to be horrible. You will see it.” he said quietly, but again: with a strange weight in the words.

He looked into the wide-open, calculating, searching greenish eyes with maybe too much honesty. And for too long. But Jason needed to see....him. 

 

Then he rolled back onto his back, staying close to Jason.

„You'll see” he whispered into the air again his promise.

Jason sighed once, then moved his head a bit. Tim glanced back at him with surprise. He didn't think that Jason would wish to talk!

The real surprise only came then.

'I want to be without the straps' he whispered with alarmingly wide-open eyes.

 

Fear.

Hope.

Distrust.

Yearning.

Horror.

 

They were all there.

And Tim just coudln't do anything against it.

„Promise me I won't regret it. Promise me I won't have to fight with you, when you try to harm yourself. Promise me!” he murmured, staring back into those heartbreaking eyes.

'I promise' Jason said it so softly, Tim nearly couldn't read it from his lips.

Three long minutes later Jason was free from every heavy, comically bulky leather-strap.

 

Tim threw himself back next to him with an annoyed huff.

„I guess that's it. All of them gone” he said, then glanced at the unmoving, quietly gasping form next to him. There was no reaction at all, but he would stay careful with Jason now. How could one know what...

When Jason started moving, for a few seriously messed-up seconds Tim's heart throbbed in his chest painfully, thanks to freaking out.

 

Then...

 

Jason curled up into a ball as much as he could with his damaged body, pushing his hands almost up onto Tim's belly, and pushing his forehead into Tim's shoulder.

Tim's eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. He couldn't even squeeze out a word!

Then the younger one slowly, oh-so-carefully turned, finding a position to keep Jason's hands unharmed, then wrapped his arms around the other as much as he could.

He almost missed what the other's lips repeated again and again, nearly hidden under the blankets' layers, which Jason wrapped around himself into a cocoon by then.

But only almost.

 

'Please don't hurt me....Please...Please....Please don't hurt me....Please....'

 

Tim hummed nearly soundlessly, combing the other's hair again with his fingers softly, until Jason became quiet, then until the broken Robin fell asleep.

 

He'd never understood the fire in Jason before. All that burning.

Now he felt an unforgiving flame in himself, while he was staring at the windows, just like Jason before. His face was expressionless, just like always. But this newfound fire was blazing in his soul, growing stronger and stronger, promising unimaginable devastation for anyone, who would try to hurt Jason.

 

 

 


	16. Every grain of sand in the hour-glass means so much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time is slipping away

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being away for so long.   
> Many things happened to me. I couldn't write this story the way I wanted. I had to delete many versions.   
> I cannot say I'm okay now, but at least I have time to write now.   
> I just wish sometimes life could be a little easier. I'm not even from a country where there is war! It's "funny" how many things can make you feel shattered, isn't it? 
> 
> Anyway. I had to realize that the mega-chapter I wanted to give you is waaay tooo big. So, you will get it in theree pieces. I hope you will accept it in this form.   
> Sorry for making you wait so much.   
> I hope you will read the story after all this time still. 
> 
> Warning: heartbreak, angst, many terrible thoughts in this chapter!

There were good days, there were bad days, there were promising, bright days and horrific days as well.

The most problematic parts were....their very own personalities, actually.

Both Tim and Jason were smart. Used to the need to use their brains in totally different ways, or show it to the world totally differently, but still....they were both intelligent.

And when such intelligence goes boldy to explore different parts of existence (more honestly: messes up by working on its own on fucked-up things), the results can be anything but useful.

Tim tended to overdo worrying, planning and preparations. He tried to outsmart the future without really knowing about what could go wrong. Sometimes it was all useless, sometimes it led to chaos. Luckily: only for him, not for Jason.

Jason.....was problematic. He'd stopped being violent, but he kept things to himself, and with his silence....nobody could ever know, for sure, what was going on with him. In his mind.

And in such a difficult recovery, a patient's mind counts. Seriously.

And what was making it even more maddening: his silence made it so easy for everyone to forget that he was mentally unstable. Jason tended to overthink everything around him, and draw the worst conclusion. And then suffer in silence, of course....

He often slipped back into thinking that something bad was waiting for him. He repeated his bad inner meanderings.

And everybody got surprised because of this, again and again, only to realize later: this was normal from someone like Jason.

Luckily, Tim could read him easier and easier after each time, and he was there to remind Jason about....well....reality.

Sometimes they both struggled pathetically to understand the other one and/or make the other understand them.

 

And it **was** a hard task to figure out sometimes what was just....made up inside Jason's head and what meant......something meaningful, important or urgent.

 

Maybe it was the most important part of the whole horrible, living, incomprehensible mosaic of events, which led to pain, terror and death........

 

 

*************

 

 

Tim had woken up to Jason's wild shivering one soul-souring-ugly morning.   
At first he couldn't understand why the tiny movements so close to him were there and what they could mean.   
Then everything changed in two seconds...

„Tim....Tim help me” came a soft, rustling, obviously forced whisper to Tim's ear, and the semi-woken-up younger one became more alert than Red Robin during a bad night's patrol.

„What's wrong?” he asked quickly, leaning over Jason, switching on the small lamp next to them, checking the monitors, staring with wide eyes into Jason's horrified ones.

„I...I....Ti..Timmm...please....help” another begging, and forced whisper, so Tim pressed one finger to Jason's lips.

„I will help, but stop hurting your throat! Just show me what's wrong! Are you in pain??”

Jason stared at him with enormous eyes, like he couldn't believe his own eyes, or something was wrong with Tim.

'I'm...scared...Tim....I'm so scared.....' some words finally appeared, but Tim was quite confused after that. These words didn't make much sense...And Jason was totally honest, that was obvious.

Tim looked around once in the room, seeing nothing, then he turned back to Jason....and that was the point, when he realized that the problem was within Jason...He was shaking violently, he was burning under Tim's arm actually, and he was sweating badly.

Fuck...

„Jason, I'm calling for help....” he murmured softly, but an almost-whine stopped him from climbing down from the bed.

'Pleasepleaseplease don't leave me here! Please, Tim! I will do anything...just...don't go....'

The greenish eyes were begging for mercy, Jason's whole face speaking volumes about how deep his terror was. His gaze was searching for something in the room, then stopped at Tim again and again, his breathing becoming a pathetic struggle, the trembling getting worse and worse.

The whole thing was alarming, after the last few days blessed peace.

„Okay....okay....don't worry, Jay...I'm staying” he murmured with a reassuring calmness in his voice and in his eyes. He slowly found his position next to Jason again, then he searched with annoyingly careful movements around the other for the small device they rarely used. Then he ringed the nurses with all the urgency he could squeeze out from the equipment.

 

 

 

 

He stayed while the doctors were searching for the fever's cause.   
„Please, can't you take samples? What about an X-ray?” he whined, as Tim Drake's role demanded. And to be honest, he hoped so much to sound pathetic enough to make the three exhausted, worried, confused men hurry......  
They answered with a half-hearted glare, then carefully undressed Jason even more, to stare at him, poke him, and then start murmuring to each other again and again...and again.......

  
Tim valiantly kept his arms around a more and more distressed Jason, as the examination became longer and longer.

„Please....I know you're hurting....It will stop. Just a few more miuntes...Please, Jason...Please....Focus on me! Okay? Just listen to my voice! Don't think about anything.....”  
He held Jason down, hushing him softly, when Jason started crying, then held him down for real, when the other started screeching as they exposed his abdomen (something he had stopped doing by then).  
„Jason...please!” he tried to raise his voice, but it was for nothing. Giant, hardly semi-lucid eyes stared at him, then did rounds in the room, stopping sometimes to check nothing, while the feverish body next to him was shaking so badly, like electricity made it twitch. Jason was loosing consciousness in a terrible way rigth in front of them, but before that, he was loosing all his connection to reality. And the gagging, crying sounds from his mouth only made it worse, like their night was part of a horror movie, a scene, all about torture.....  
And then.......one of the doctors finally found the problem.   
And Tim already knew, from the shocked gasps from the group, that it couldn't be anything good......  
And it wasn't. One of the almost-healed wounds on Jason's side had changed......

 

Tim stayed while they knocked Jason out, promising him a quick recovery, with all the peace he could find in himself, all the calmness he could push into his voice.

It still sounded like a poor lie.   
He tried to keep touching Jason, since holding his hand was out of the question, then he tried to keep the eye-contact until the last moment, to make him feel, see, understand, somehow, that he wasn't alone.  
But at the end, it all looked like putting down a dangerous animal, after giving up on him, after realizing that there was nothing left to hope for, no chance of saving, only the chance to let it go and make it easier for everyone.......  
And Tim felt scared, disgusted and at the same time......hollow afterwards.

 

In the end, he stayed during a gruesome test as well. The doctors checked the tiny bit abnormal-looking wound with a syringe, and found a giant amount of disgusting goo deep in it.

Jason was taken away to an emergency operation, mostly to reopen and clean that wound.

And to check every fucking other one there.

 

Tim wrapped one of their blankets around himself, and forced his mind to not concentrate on the terror what he had seen so clearly on the surgeon's face, as they'd literally ran away with Jason.

 

Three hours later Tim got back a pale, unconscious, still shivering Jason. With a huge new bandage on his body. And a new set of infusion bags.

 

It was a fucking infection. And not even a really dangerous bacteria doing the whole hellish rampage in Jason. But he had been too weak. So the infection had started it's course, without major signs at the beginning, and then it had had the chance to do a terrifying amount of damage.

The stab-wound (one of the dozens and dozens) had brought the infection, just the process had started deeper than anyone could have guessed, and for some time all the medication had held it back. But with Jason's immune system's wobbling, between working and fucking it up, obviously it all had ended with a bad result.

 

The surgery had been more or less successful. They had cleaned (more like: taken) out the nightmarish canal of destruction in the flesh, which had existed under the semi-healed, too-good-looking-to-be-alarming-anyhow skin.

There had been a chance that his liver hadn't been reached.

But nobody had been sure.

 

So the antibiotics had started to flow and they all had swirled back into hell.

 

Some truly badass drugs were constantly dripping into Jason's bloodstream now, thanks to his sixth infusion program, and all the doctors had promised Tim they would work....but all that didn't mean it was easier to witness the suffering...or actually deal with Jason during this.

 

Because.....  
wrapped up in white (the colour of death for them these days), and connected to tubes and wires like a giant computer system's living part, a horrible, organic heart pushed into some kind of a horrible, semi-mechanic experiment of suffering...

and existing in the barest form of humanity, in which everyone is flayed, without any kind of armor, in desperate need of help to survive for just another few minutes...just like the weakest infants...

Jason woke up a lot.

 

Woke up, more or less....

 

He was so ill....So broken, torn apart actually.

And after the first few days, Jason had become cold. Tim's heart had almost stopped because of that, when his hand had landed on cold, so-so cold skin the first time. Then the nurse he'd called in panic had had the patience to really explain how serious Jason's case had become....and he would need cruel meds to save him...and everything happening then....had been completely normal for a cristical case.

That had been when Tim's anxiety had arrived into the room as their constant third companion.

 

 

The thing Tim originally had needed so much from his „family” had been....acceptance. The big, true form of it. He had needed.....would have needed......approval so much!

Then time had come and gone.

And he had understood that things...more often than not would never happen the way one human being could hope.....

After Bruce's disappearance...then Damian's oh-so-easy joining.....Tim had let himself grow into the cold, (almost) unbreakable, intelligent, distant person the world often had seen him as.

Why not?

This was his top form.

But inside....one thing hadn't changed at all during that time. Or it had. It had become stronger.

His wish to have a connection with Jason. A real one. Any kind of it.

He had felt that the two of them had drifted closer in the flow of their merciless life. He had felt Jason closer than ever before, when Robin had been taken away...

He had stayed the only one, who hadn't betrayed Tim's belief. He had been angry, grumpy, the lone wolf....yeah. But still: the same, handling their relationship the same way. If anything, things had been better, and constantly improving, after Jason's madness and his wish to kill them all had faded away.

 

So Jason had become the only one, who's approval still mattered.

 

And now, from time to time, when he finally could fall asleep, Tim woke up again and again with a gasp, desperately checking the corpse-like one next to him, to see if Jason still lived.

 

The coldness of the other only whispered to his soul maddening things, planting fear in Tim's heart. Fear and hopelessness.

 

And then Jason started waking up.

 

Too-shining, troubled, wide eyes looked around in the room, sometimes not even seeing Tim, sometimes finding him, but no recognition came...

Then weakness, terrible, painful weakness screamed for remedy from those eyes sometimes.

A few versions of waking up was a torture for everyone. When Jason tried to fight. Soft, way too weak whines, pathetic movements of the head, a painful grimace on the face, while he refused to open his eyes....

 

Then one day he woke up, stared right into Tim's eyes, and exhaustion, final, heartbreaking exhaustion filled those teal eyes.   
And Jason's lips started moving

'You have to stop this....'

„Jay! Are you okay? Do you know who I am?” he couldn't think about anything else but relief. No. Nothing else.

'You know....You have to stop this....'

Tim's heart clenched painfully in his chest. Why was Jason's expression so....determined?

But before he could say anything, Jason fell asleep again.

 

Soft shivering woke up Tim the next time. Just like _that_ night....

Feverish, shining eyes looked back into his.

'I'm scared....I'm so scared....Please...I'm scared...'

„Jay...Hey, hey! It's okay...You are safe. You are safe. Hey, hey, hey...I'm here!” he wrapped himself around Jason even more tightly, as powerfully as he could.

'Nothing....no....nothing....n-nothing will help' Jason mumbled, the shivering dancing in his body badly.

„Sh...I am here. Everything's gonna be fine!” he rushed with his words, searching for the small device, not finding it easily, again...

And then a patient nurse explained to him and a terrified Jason, who tired to find shelter in Tim by pressing impossibly close, that.....this was normal.

It was a long evening and night afterwards.....Tim's throat started to hurt by the time Jason finally calmed down - and fell asleep almost immediately. Until that, he told the shining, amazed-horrified eyes anything that came into his mind.....

 

Two days later Tim ran out of stories and ideas. And hope.

'It hurts....It hu...hurt....It hurts....Tim! Make it stop! Help me, please!!' every small, begging sentence was a knife to Tim's heart.

There was nothing to do. Jason couldn't get more medication.

It was bad enough to make Jason force his voice again. It was bad enough for him to start squirming in Tim's hold as much as he could.

„It will get better...Hold on....Just hold on.....Everything will be alright....Hold on.....It will get better...I promise....” he murmured with closed eyes after Jason's speak became too much, keeping his hug as the best restraint around Jason, not caring about how his words didn't matter at all, not letting the whole weight of the upcoming times' happenings break his mind's walls.

He just couldn't.

 

After that excruciating event, something changed. When he was awake....Jason became so quiet....so calm. He lay next to Tim, staring out to the corridor all day, shivering, but not communicating.

And Tim felt like a drowning man. He was drowning in this silence, in his own fear.

Somehow, to him, it all looked like....like they were running out of time. Life was slipping away. As Jason's reluctance, his fight, his fire, then his words were fading away...so was his life-energy.

This wasn't about cooperation.

Not this time. Not anymore.

 

So he kept his arms around Jason and begged without a sound for tomorrow to never come.

There was **nothing** else to do.

 

As they reached this point, Tim started to cherish every time when Jason said anything. Or any kind of communication, even when Jason just stared at him for a few heartbeats - they all became...blessed little gifts of life.

So Tim just started to give anything Jason he asked for. If he could.

He started to behave like everything was fine. He stayed calm...and played his part, with being nice and hopeful, as well as he could.

Or he thought.

 

 

'It's cold....can I get another blanket?'

„Sure thing. Give me a sec....”

Why, why, WHY Jason had to be so weak?! So soft...So obviously fading....

As he dragged out the newest, warmest blanket he just bought from the closet, he forced himself to show his back to Jason until the very moment. It was the only was to gain some time to compose himself.

 

'I'm so cold....It's so cold....'

„Let me move closer....Just give it a few seconds, Jay, it will get better....”

He shivered with Jason, wrapped into their cocoon of warmth, and stopped staring at Jason's face. He feared of not being able to hide his terror anymore.

 

In the middle of the night Tim's heart almost exploded, as a soft crying sound woke him up.

'Please, make it stop! Please!!!!!' It was impossible, but Jason shook with enough force to make Tim's teeth click in his mouth, as he fought with the other's body, keeping his own around him. Jason even started twitching under him, and he was, Tim could have sworn to anything, looking for an exit from the room.

„Jason, listen to me! Listen! Stop, no, no, don't move! No! Stop! Listen! Listen to my voice! We are really, really close to the finish line! Don't give up! Listen to my voice!” he ordered Jason with his best Robin-voice. In the end, they always came back to the routines burned into their minds....And Tim had run out of ideas and energy two days ago, when Jason's sickness started so strangle them all. He had been feverish again....

He couldn't find anything else in him anymore to make them, both of them, keep fighting.

 

 

'Tim....I'm scared....' The words were so softly formed Tim almost missed them. Dawn had a soft, filthy grey hue around them, making the whole world look like a hopeless, ugly waiting room of another realm. They were almost always awake in this time of the day.

Jason was staring at the windows, his face not showing any signs of distress. He wasn't even turning to Tim.

And Tim couldn't be sure if Jason meant him to see his words...

He softly raised a hand and started caressing Jason's face. He had no other answer than that and moving a bit closer, to press his face to Jason's head.

 

 

 

'It...hurts.....Tim.....It hurts....There are....needles everywhere in my body....Please make it stop!' Jason's breathing was nothing more than small, struggling gasps, so weak and useless....

Tim fought back against fear, heartbreak, pain, tears, not letting his body shake with his own terror, and kept the mask in place. Or both masks: his calm facial eypression and Jason's medical one. The oxygen helped a tiny bit. And this was all he could do now....Keeping a fucking little piece of plastic in place, when Jason started to shake his head against the suffering.

He ran out of words.

So he kept the mask in front of Jason's nose and mouth, and tried to hug Jason's head to his chest his his other arm.

 

 

 

An hour later a scared nurse stepped in to warn him.   
Just as he'd asked...weeks before...

 

 

 

 

Richard Grayson was on his way to their room to visit Jason.

 

 


	17. Running and passing too much

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A necessary argument. And a quite bitter one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after certain comments, I figured that this story would need more characters, not just Jason and Tim. Maybe the demand was rightful, but I have to admit one thing: when I don't feel a character close enough, I dont like to write anything with them, because I might mess it up.   
> Anyway, this chapter was truly needed, because I felt that I have to show you all WHY there will be a major conflict between the two main characters and the other members of the family. Although....I'm not sure if you will be able to see it now or not. Sorry!   
> And, in the last part, you will get a little answer for another type of demands too! Nothing too serious, but still...
> 
> Thanks for all the attention this story gets!!! It means a lot! :)

Dick was here to finally start rebuilding his family. He wasn't ready. But he'd been able to realize a few days ago, that sitting in his room and grieving would not bring solution. At all. Ever.

He had to do....something.

 

He wasn't any better than before.

He had no clue how to face the future the right way and make the right decisions.

But..he had to come. He had to. He needed to see Jason, and Tim....Yes. He had to do something about Tim.

He was absolutely sure that Jason was beyond saving, but that didn't mean he could let himself forget about him. He had to figure out something about his younger brother, about the two of them, himself and his destroyed sibling, he had to start....dealing with it. All of it. Even he had no idea how.

So, he changed his mind, and came. Facing with the hospital room's inhabitants was a good start. After that, at least he would no his first steps.

Yeah, it was goddamn time to do this.

 

He reached the right floor when it happened.

He suspected that seeing his brothers wouldn't be a nice experience. He suspected that Tim had to be terribly exhausted by now thanks to the enormous amount of time he had spent with Jason. He already prepared his heart for some serious hurt.

But when Tim suddenly stepped out from a small corridor's shadow, Dick couldn't stop himself from gasping.

Because those eyes bit into his soul, and only a quick glance from them was enough to stop him dead on his tracks.

Tim looked like a tortured creature, who'd somehow escaped straight from Hell. He was so thin and pale, and his eyes had a new depth, a creepy, haunting challenge for any sad fools who didn't realize in time how quickly they should be running.

Tim had always had a....chance in himself to change into....something dangerous. He just hadn't decided to use this. He had been fine without using that...potential, for real.

Dick thought, right then and there, that maybe it had happened afterall, maybe even without Tim's notice.

His younger brother's whole aura spoke about...inhuman danger.

Tim looked like a ghost, a hungry one, who was ready to tear apart anybody who was foolish enough to stand in his way.

Tim looked like....like somebody who had stepped over.....caring.....and had left it behind forever.

 

They stared at each other for long, silent minutes. Dick's eyes searching for his little brother, desperately trying to **force** out something promising from this situation, but his scared shock probably ruined his chances too much. Tim's eyes were cold and distant, maybe a bit threatening. He didn't want anything from him, that was quite obvious.

 

And it was Tim, who lost his patience faster.

„What do you want?” his official voice was cold, expectant, impatient - everything to tell Dick how quickly he wanted this discussion to end.   
„ I want to see Jason. I have to...” he started softly, with a soothing voice. He had to hope that this could end well....

Tim snorted at that.  
„No, Dick. That would do no good” he said with a headshake, keeping his voice the same: distant and uncaring.

And that was when Dick had enough. He was here to mend this horror story, for God's sake!  
„You can't be that goddamn sure about that! I...”  
„Yes, I can! Oh, God! It seems to be **again** the very time of everyone else loosing their minds, leaving me all alone with the thinking....Your presence would do nothing good. Only harm!” snapped Tim at him, and cold flames started to dance in those haunting eyes.

Tim became the one thing he (actually: both of them) tried to avoid: angry.  
„That. Is. Not. True. I am his brother too! I am the oldest! He needs to know that I care, that I'm here for him, he needs to....see how much he means to me, to us!” Dick argued passionately.  
Tim answered with a tired sigh:

„ Dick....he is feverish, weak, injured, really rarely lucid these days. If you turn up in his room suddenly...Why on Earth you cannot see, that he will only see then the very man, who threw him into Arkham?”  
Shocked, anguish-filled eyes, then a hoarse voice answered:

„ That's why it's so important for me to see him. I have to tell him how deeply I regret all that. How sorry I am. I have to apologize! He has to understand that...”  
„For fuck's sake! Could you stop being so goddamn selfish for one fucking second?!?!” Tim's anger was a freakish cold flame, finally erupting to stop the world's idiot doings around him. It was ugly, it caused pain, it was perfectly destructive. Shocked, hurt silence answered him only. And he continued:

„You can only see this goddamn mess from your point of view?! Never allow anything else to squeeze itself into your mind!? How deeply YOU regret it, how sorry YOU are! Jason HAS TO see...I had enough of this Dick, and I won't let you prance in there, shatter every little development we created, and then leave ME to clean up the mess, which you WILL leave behind! Think about Jason, for real, just for a few seconds, alright? If you are really the caring big bro you claim yourself to be! Just show me you are really capable of seeing Jason's wellbeing as first-priority, okay? Think about what would be really good for HIM. Not for you. You want to go in there, talk, and then let the hellish fire fall from the skies, because whatever consequences might come, you will deal with it, no doubt! Well, let me tell you, that this is just NOT what that sick, injured, scared mind needs! And right now only that matters!”  
Horrified gasps, after the angry, rushed, almost yelled monologue, from both boys, hard gaze from Tim and deeply terrified eyes from Dick.  
„That....that's not...what I want....I don't think that way” Dick squeezed out.  
„Well....but that's how exactly the world will see your actions. If you don't see it this way, that's your thing, but what you want to do....that's many other people's thing too....”  
Some pity appeared in the greyblue eyes, like tiny specks of a miracle.  
„Look, Dick, we aleady talked about this....An apology....it just won't matter. What would it change in this situation? What could it change?”  
„I think...” Dick started, bravely, ready to explain his point.

But he got no chance.  
„No, Dick, no, stop. Stay in the cold, harsh reality. Not your thoughts! Only reality! What could an apology mean now?” Tim shooed away his oldest brother's dreamy side with this dry, tired voice before he could have started an endless, pointless speech. He had no energy left to pay attention to that. And he wanted to bring the end of Dick's visit closer.   
„That I care!” Dick argued.  
„Well, then you care the wrong way!” he spat.  
Shocked, heartbroken silence filled the air.  
„Is this what you really think about me, Tim?” Dick just....couldn't accept this sad, damaging scene, it hurt so much.....  
Hard silence and an even harder gaze answered him.  
„Right now I can only think about Jay, sorry” said Tim quietly, calmly, with a smooth voice.   
„That's not a real answer! You were quite adamant about being strict with me, well don't stop just now! You really think that I am a selfish, delusional monster?” Dick's pain erupted too, he just couldn't stop himself.   
A barely audiable answer was the dagger he got into his heart for that:  
„You don't care about Jason being seriously sick now, probably not being able to recognize you as a brother and not being able to understand your motives at all. You came to talk anyway....You don't care how meaningless your apology could be, even if Jason would accept it, with him facing a whole new, disabled life.....you came to....to _take_ all that....relief....for yourself, if it's possible...You don't care what a fucking mess you could cause, you want to try, because you are Dick Grayson and you do your heart-to-hearts, even in the middle of the Apocalypse....And nothing seemed to stop you, not even for a few minutes of hesitation, from throwing me into the meat grinder, when you decided that Damien needs....basically everything, which was my life, to be a _good boy_.”  
Gasps. Pained, shocked, disbelieving gasps.

Tim turned away to leave, not giving a damn about this conversation anymore, but..  
„Timmy! It was never....no....please....it was never like that! Could we....not talk about this now?? Or....or....do you need it? Because then..” Dick was begging for...anything and everything, with all his might. His eyes wide and filled with regret and horror. For him. For Tim. In Tim's eyes: it was too late. How to save that time, which had ended so long ago? It was just another thing Dick wanted to patch up, somehow, with his loving heart, desperately trying to do the thing which was good for everyone, but......it was an impossible aim, and it was a foolish thing to wish for it.

So Tim didn't do anything like that.  
„Dick, enough” he answered with a raspy, tired voice „right now...not my needs are the most important....”  
„But you are important! You are! And I am here to help! So you don't have to bear all of this alone! I am here for you too, not just for Jason!” Dick stared at his little brother, wishing so much to make him see somehow, that he mattered, he had always mattered, he wished to grab him and hug him and heal him with his heart's energy, everything he had in himself......

Dick took a big breath, calming himself a bit by that. Yeah, he had to help. And he had to do it the right way.

„Together we could start planning something good for Jason! You know...I mean...something...long-term...” he started softly again.  
With confused eyes, and pulled together brows, Tim turned back to him fully.  
„I don't understand it. What do you mean?”  
„Well, you see....Jason will need help” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words.   
„Yeah, that's why he is here, and later that's what family is there for. So....us...you know. Or maybe I should say that it's something family should be there for...?” the sneer was there, even if it was small.  
Oh the irony, right!!? Family, family, family....that was all this mess was about....   
But strangely.....sad eyes looked back. Trying to tell Tim something without words. Trying to make him accept.  
„Tim....what if he won't be well enough to...so....for us to be his...support? What if we won't be enough? We are vigilantes, Tim! And we have our lives, and....”

This wasn't going to any kind of good directions....No, not at all.  
„Dick.....what do you mean?!” he growled dangerously, quietly, with suspicious eyes.  
„I mean that.....we should keep in mind, that with his mind, his changed body, maybe he won't be able to live with us. If he isn't healthy enough, staying with us would do no good to him!” Dick finally said it out loud. He even looked a bit relieved afterwards.  
Tim's eyes became more and more stormy with each sentence.

And then the yelling started.   
„I can' t believe you! You came here, playing the caring, loving big bro, and now...you just...you just want to...”  
„ I want to help! And I want to do it the best way!”  
„Well, this is then wrong way of caring..again” icecold was the answer - again.  
„Tim, we aren't qualified enough to take care of Jason, with his injuries AND an unstable mind! Can't you see? That's not our job! We **have** our duties! And don't think I didn't notice your disappearance from....from that...field” Dick looked around, hoping that he picked his words carefully enough, after realizing just in time what he almost shouted into Tim's face...and into the air of the hospital too......

But his accusation only made things worse.   
”You don't know anything! Any new doctor enters the room, he freaks out! I had to ask the psychyatrist to stay away for _weeks_ , because her presence was pure damage for Jay's psyche! How do you plan to drop him somewhere and leave there, how do you plan to even call anyone else for him, to join the work, to help, while we are here!? And don't bring up our duties! How dare you...”

He ran out of breath, so he just stared at Dick with furious eyes.

Dick's voice was between begging and being exhausted, like a tired parent's who had to explain simple things again and again:

„Timmy.....there are very good institutes around.....We could....”

Tim's eyes widened with disbelief. Then the cool fire, which made him who he was, finally came back to him and saved him. He took in a giant amount of air through his nose, then said with a perfectly collected, official and distant voice:  
„No”

Dick stared back at him with surprise.

It looked like he really thought he could win this argument.   
„Tim! Please, listen! We...”  
„No! I said no! This is **wrong**!”  
„But..”  
„No! Here and now, for Jason, for us, for this mess, your idea won't work. End of discussion.”  
„Tim, this is stupid! Why can't you see that he will definitely need serious help?! Not the one we could offer?!”  
„ Are you really trying to make me listen to you after everything you said before?! After not doing a thing for him for weeks?!?! And why can't _**you see**_ that your way is not automatically the only way to solve things? You don't have to be so desperately similar to B in so many things! And especially not in this situation!” he hissed into Dick's face with all the cruelty he could force into his words.   
  
Terrible silence enveloped them.

 

Dick couldn't say a word. Just stared into the furious, unforgiving eyes, not seeing anything but anger and threats in them for himself.

He came here to take care of these members of his family. The best possible way.

He wanted to check on Jason, to estimate the time he would need in the hospital, and then to estimate when they would need to move him into a...good place.

He wanted to make sure that Tim would go and rest, and he wanted to give his little, genius brother some remedy. Tim was still so young! He shouldn't have been the one to carry this terrible weight on his shoulders. No. It was Dick's task. And even if there was nothing to carry, in the end, because Jason would need professional help, and not theirs.....Dick wanted to take away all the worry and pain from Tim. He was ready to deal with these feelings and Jason's caretaking, even if in the end all of it would be to just to save Tim from them. Even if others would take away all of it from him too, so....not anyone from the family should suffer, in the end, because of their brother's injuries.

If there was anyone who would need to feel horrible for everything....well....it was him.

 

Tim stared at him with blazing eyes, his words still mauling Dick's heart, his expression telling Dick that for Tim...he was something like an enemy.....

 

He just didn't know what to say. Tim was right. He needed so much time to realize what a normal person would do and where to go....And.....was he really that similar to Bruce?

He had one huge wish in his heart: to become similar to Bruce.

He had one huge terror in his heart: to become similar to Bruce.

He tried to find...some kind of a helpful answer in Tim's eyes still.

But suddenly Tim stepped back, and with one last, creepy stare he said:

„Please leave the hospital. Don't force me to make you leave”

 

Dick wanted to shout at him. Wanted to remind him that he was the oldest still. He wanted to grab him, shake him, get back his lovely little brother, and build up the bridges between them, which somehow....disappeared.

He wanted them to be....in the same team!

 

But....he had no idea how to crack the ice....What words to use to get his little brother back. How to make him see that he only wanted what was best. And somehow Tim wasn't seeing clearly their situation.

 

The hellish creature, who probably feared nothing, left him alone. Before he could have said a word.

 

And Dick knew that going after him now would do no good.

 

 

 

Tim just couldn't believe it. Dick....didn't see anything but the thoughts he had created for himself earlier. And he had given up...Dick had given up on Jason and everything which could mean **real** help.

It hurt so much.

He felt....invisible again, just like in his childhood. Dick didn't listen to him. Didn't care about his opinion. Dick hadn't been there with them, couldn't know anything, but he'd still made his decision about.....basically everything!

 

Somehow....this day started to taste like ash in his mouth.

The loneliness, which he started to feel, was so much worse than his guilt for the cruel words he had said into Dick's face.

He was alone.

Totally alone with the task to save Jason.

This realization, after the rough, soul-wrenching days they had had.....was too much. Too exhausting.

 

He could only hope that Dick would go away, and not make things even worse by staying somewhere in the hospital, and later causing trouble.

Everything which was happening with Jason, was enough in itself for him...Dealing with that was already killing him, as he watched the other fading away, in a painful, slow, pathetic way.

 

He stepped closer to the bed, and stared down to the grotesque form in it. Jason didn't look like himself anymore. Just a dying young man.

Tim let the exhaustion take over, as he climbed in, settling down next to Jason, then blessed darkness came and he let the world disappear.

 

 

 

                                                                                                               ****************

„Well....At least we are heading home, finally!” said Superman happily, optimism radiating from him.

Everybody agreed.

Their mission was a huge failure, then a giant, messy fight for their lives, then a much more messed-up adventure into another galaxy with their new allies, then a maddening hide-and-seek with nighmarish new enemies, then a truly lucky escape from those, then an even more lucky discovery to find their way back (after getting totally lost in that galaxy), then an extremely lucky trick from Batman and the few remaining allies to prevent the new enemies from following.

They were exhausted, but everybody was alive. They were fed up with this voyage, but they had won, all in all. They got a spaceship to go home, from their new friends.

Soon they would be all at home.

 

And they already agreed to not mention their feelings and thoughts during the trip. Certain feelings and thoughts about the time-fold's passing, which they had done, and the effect of that: for them, it had been two feeks....for their galaxy and Earth? It had been much more. They only knew that much.

 

Batman didn't say a word to anyone, while they were traveling back home. He hadn't spoken to anyone actually, not after the nixgirars had told them the truth about the missed time.

 


	18. Just.....let me have what's already mine....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I thought I lost you....."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still alive! Hurraayy!   
> And that's probably the only happy thing for you, Dear Reader, because this note will be LOOONG. Sorry, but please read it! Important!  
> First of all: I had to finally write This Chapter. Then see how enormous it is, and decide to break it into two. Yeah, i know, I've been promising The Chapter for you all for ages!! Don't worry. This and the next chapter is FINALLY The Chapter! The Chapter is the chapter why this whole story exists.   
> This is why (second of all) I waited so long. I wasn't sure about posting it. Many of you already mentioned that emotionally this story is a bit too much....so I really played with the idea of leaving this story this way (without an ending or anything - but that's so not my thing!!!!) or write a totally different story out of it....But I couldn't do it. So, WARNING TIME! This story won't be easy. I'm sorry. It will do a few more flips and turns in the darkness. But I promised a happy ending, don't forget!  
> Third thing: I'm after a difficult time in my life. Please be understanding.   
> Fourth: I actually pay attention to the comments, Dear Readers. So, I totally thought through a few ideas which came to me from there. Critical comments count too, yes! Thanks to that, now I really know why I won't rewrite this story from the beginning. The pendulum swings. And every time Jason relapses, the story moves forward. Yeah, Tim struggles, Jason gets better, then not, let's start again.....Maybe you think this is boring. I'm not saying it's not. But this story ended up with this style and I....I think I learnd to accept and love it this way. And it isn't really true that there aren't changes in the characters (although....it wouldn't be a bad thing to say, I accept), but I think....the story, as it's own unity, moves. Just it does it slowly, and it became an enormous thing to see through easily and think about as a whole....whatever. Flow. Line.   
> Please forgive me for this. I think I should have written this to be more easy-to-digest. But I....I like writing long stories. What I'm still afraid is when long stories loose their impluse, when the river looses it's riverbanks and ends up as a swamp....
> 
> All in all.....thanks for reading, I'm giving you back the original storyline NOW!
> 
> WARNING: depressing thoughts and atmosphere at first!  
> ONE MORE THING!!!! REALLY IMPORTANT!!! It's about the thing with Jason which Tim remembers (no, no spoilers). All that reminiscent part. So, the happening itself - isn't my original making. I could swear I read it in a fanfic here, on AO3. It was a really good one, but I couldn't find it!!! If anyone recognises this part, please let me know who is the original writer and what is the fanfic it is in!!! I want to write it here as inspiration for my fic (aaaand probably ask for a permission too, which I cannot do right now!!). 
> 
> So yeah, all characters belong to DC aaaand a part of this chapter belongs to another writer here, on AO3. Pleeease if you are here and reading this: don't be too angry with me! I loved that idea of yours, and I wished to mention it someway. If you want to, I will take that part out, I promise. Just let me know!

Jason slipped away from Tim's grasp on a quiet Tuesday, early in the afternoon.

He was mostly unconscious during the day by then. Weak shivering was the only symptom left from earlier out of everything to see still. Mostly, everything in the room was...peaceful and quiet. Almost normal. Even the monitors didn't show anything alarming anymore. His heart showed most signs of giving up only.

Tim was there. During all the process. And he remembered everything.

He felt like he did the whole dying with Jason too.

There was no reason to deny the obvious, not anymore.

Jason was weaker and weaker by each passing day.

 

 

 

The young blond nurse (Tim's second favourite) around noon had come in and done the simple check-ups. Then she had left quickly, without a glance at Tim's direction.

This had been new.

And Jason's least favourite surgeon had come in quite early in the afternoon. Earlier than usual. Earlier than any normal afternoon check-up's time.

 

He'd watched Tim with calculating eyes, and then he'd said quietly, carefully, with that annoying and perfectly balanced mixture of distance and compassion of professionalism:

„I have serious news for you, Mr Drake. Mr Peterson's condition is critical. There are no signs of progress. We did and we are still doing our best to help him. But there isn't any reaction to the treatment. I think it's only right now if I tell you, Mr Drake, to be ready.”

 

Something....heavy had filled the room after that.

Tim had stared at Jason's white face for a few minutes in silence. He hadn't been able to say anything to the guy. What could have been that good for?

And all this monologue... really....it hadn't been such a big shock.

 

„Is there anything else to do for him?” he'd growled with a scratchy croak. He'd had to ask that. What he hadn't calculated into the picture was the answer:

„Well....There is still one drug left. As a last resort we usually don't.....”

„Why the hell didn't you start with that one?!” he'd hissed furiously, staring at the doctor finally, with all the merciless fire he had found in himself. He hadn't been able to believe his ears!!

„As I wished to say, Mr Drake, it isn's part of any treatment protocols. We desperately try to avoid it's use. Mostly to save it for cases which need it the most: patients, whose infections don't react to anything. Secondly: it's a risky medication. And Mr Peterson's kidneys are already in a terrible state.”

 

Tim had shaken his head, then he'd stared down at Jason again.   
He couldn't figure out ever later what could have made he say what he'd said then:

 

„I want you to try it out.”

„Look, Mr Drake, he is....”

„You and your whole hospital will get the money you want or whatever else you want, but try it. Now.”

„You don't understand, Mr Drake, he isn't..”

„I understand perfectly well that it's a messed up situation. But we both know that he will die soon without any new version of help, since he didn't react to the normal medication at all. Which makes him one of the patients who need and deserve this miracle antibiotic. If he looses his kidneys, I will make sure to find new ones in time for him.”

Then Tim had slowly lifted his eyes to stare at the doctor and he had started speaking with his most horrible businessman voice, the one he knew well to chase others to nightmares with it's smooth emptiness:

„If I find out there was anything, any kind of questionable, risky, experimental treament which could have been tried out, but you.....forgot to mention it.....and he dies.....I will make your life a living Hell. So, even if you're his surgeon and not the head of this hospital.....I recommend you to go and do your best. Now.”

 

He'd turned away from the man, finally feeling some smug satisfaction. With his last words, he had successfully wiped away that confident look from the man's face. (Finally!!)

He had checked himself for some shame or regret for his threats.

 

He had found none.

 

He hadn't even nodded into the direction of the quickly retreating man.

 

 

 

The'd run out of mercy and kindness weeks ago.

So now, with a perfectly emotionless mask, he watched Jason, the motionless, quiet, white puppet of Fate in the bed. A puppet Fate had got bored with.

If only Tim could have felt that yeah, it was the ending. But he just couldn't feel that way. He couldn't feel that everything had been done, that Jason had lived enough, that the best possible thing was for the whole situation to end it.....

 

A memory came into his mind, and he had to grit his teeth when all the feelings rushed into him with that.

 

He hadn't told Jason that he.....he had known about that morning.....

And about the whole night before that morning.

 

_His very own system of cameras around certain parts of the city was just a start. But a promising one. He was sure, with spreading it, he could do so much good in the future!_

_He started with Crime Alley for a quite logical, and then for a really personal reason. Surprisingly, the two reasons were the very same thing to be honest: Jason Peter Todd or, these days, the Red Hood._

_He wanted to keep an eye on their lost brother. He was a bit better these days, but still an impossibly dangerous element of Gotham. His attempts to kill the members of the family had stopped a long time ago, but everyone was still...nervous because of his presence in Gotham._

_Tim wasn't even permitted to go anywhere near his territory._

_He didn't._

_He just watched._

 

_It was a freezing winter night out in the city. Only Bruce and Dick went out for a quick patrol, and they planned to come back early, these nights didn't have much chance of ending as a disaster._

_Tim should have been sleeping already, but he wanted to check his system one last time._

 

_And that was when he found him. Red Hood, limping through one of the small, pathetic public parks of Gotham's poorest parts. Looking like a third-class thug, after a well-deserved beating._

_He planned to call Batman as soon as he realized that this was good chance to catch the ruined vigilante. He really did._

_Then he saw the horrific figure stop and start talking to....someone._

_An old homeless guy on a bench in that park. Tim leaned closer to his monitor. Yeah, the old man didn't have enough clothes, blankets or anything else to survive such a night out there. What the hell was happening?_

_He could see how...difficult it was for the man to say whatever he wanted to say to the Red Hood._

_And he just couldn't understand a thing when the Red Hood stepped closer, slowly sat down on the ground next to the bench and then....._

_Tim actually needed some time to realize that nothing else was happening. The homeless person leaned back to an uncomfortable position on the bench, probably planning to sleep, and the Red Hood was just....sitting there._

_What the fuck?! Why didn't Jason call for help or bring themselves to some place safer, better?! Why did he let the old man just lie there? He would freeze to death by morning! Jason could freeze to death just by sitting there too!_

_He wanted to yell, wanted to call Bruce, wanted to get suited up and run there himself._

_And he almost did that._

_But in the middle of jumping up.....he actually saw Jason moving his head a little. Yes, he shook hís head slowly one or twice. Then leaned forward. Then sat back up._

_Tim slowly, mostly by listening to a gut feeling, understood that....Jason was talking. Talking to the old man on that bench._

_But....why didn't he **do** something?! _

_Tim just....couldn't understand it._

_Jason sat there for a long time. The longer Tim watched the easier it was to see that yes, Jason was talking too._

_And Tim actually felt horrible, when, after like two hours, he checked the man with more attention again, and he had to realize that during the time he just sat in his room, doing nothing, the old nobody had passed away._

_Jason stayed there, on the ground, probably injured and tired, during the whole night. Probably talking through the whole time._

_When dawn finally arrived, a quiet and shaken Tim watched Jason stood up. Frost's patterns covered the Red Hood's whole form. The dangerous killing machine watched the old man for a few minutes. Then, without doing anything, he limped away._

 

_Tim found out a bit later that the man had been dying from a medical problem, he had known his own fate long before he had chosen to sleep out there on that bench that night. He had been a homeless nobody during most of his life. He had lived mostly in the most hopeless parts of Crime Alley._

_There was a chance that he had been someone from Jason's past._

 

_Nobody could know for sure._

 

_He never told anyone how Jason cracked his heart that day. One of the first cracks, caused by the older boy, followed by many others later._

 

 

 

Tim just.....couldn't see himself as a guard and last company for a dying one. He wasn't anything like Jason from that night.

 

He had to...try...Try what?

Try to avoid that happening.

 

Even if there was no hope for them.

 

He stared at Jason and buried every emotion which tried to shatter him.

His Robin was leaving him and there was nothing else to do...

He had to fight back against falling apart.

 

Two hours later a new doctor arrived and started a new infusion bag. He didn't even introduce himself, just came in, put the strange liquid among the others, and then started staring at Jason's heart rate monitor.

 

They both watched the monitors and Jason and then the monitors again like hawks for almost 20 minutes.

 

No signs of shock came.

After some time the doctor carefully peeked at Tim, then quickly nodded, when the younger one turned to him.

And another white coat escaped from the room.

 

Tim sighed. Once. Only. And quietly.

That was all.

All the....farewell he let himself have.

 

Because....he didn't want to give up! He promised.....But Jason was...no matter what he wanted, Jason was a dying man, barely hanging on the last threads of life.

This was the cold, hard truth.

So, he let himself freeze with that truth into a painful silence, which didn't let him cry, because that would have meant abandoning all hope and Jason himself too, but this silence was...the acceptance of reality too.

 

Nothing else was there to do.

 

He was ready to keep vigil....until....

 

 

Hours flew away, yet, the room's air seemed unmoving, unforgiving, a torture for Tim, who watched the form in front of him with hollow eyes. Jason was....leaving him. Maybe he, the true Jason with everything which made him Jason, wasn't even present anymore.

He didn't have any clues what he hoped. What he waited for. He just couldn't leave. Maybe if he stayed with enough....devotion....in his soul, then he could chain Jason to this world. Which was a childish, stupid delusion from himself for his very own mind, and for that, he hated himself with passion.

When exactly had he started to leave behind everything which made him Tim Drake and Red Robin too, in exchange.......well........fuck.......for a lie?!

 

His thoughts kept grinding his soul for hours and hours. Then his soul got destructive for his mind.

He was suffering and he not just knew about it, but he saw too that there wouldn't be any exits from this for him...for a long time.

 

 

Outside the whole world waited for the late autumn's slow fading to end.

Inside Tim waited for Jason to do exactly the same.

 

Silence, horror movie's silence filled the room and Tim Drake's whole mind. It didn't let him connect to the world again, no matter who came into the room or what was said to him.

 

His mind gave up a few hours after sunset. His body gave up a few hours after that. Total exhaustion claimed the young, broken, weakened human, and Tim fall asleep in his chair during his final watch.

 

 

 

 

He woke up to a terrible pain in his neck and some strange hissing sound.

Tim cursed and winced as his dead muscles fought themselves back into life and into his circulation after a long, bad kind of sleep in a terrible position.

He grimaced and started massaging his neck awkwardly, squeezing his eyes shut thanks to the pain.

Then he looked around in the room with a sleepy, crumpled expression.

And stared right into Jason's brilliant teal eyes.

 

Another hissing sound came from Jason's mouth, then he blinked slowly at Tim.

 

One second, Tim was looking at his older brother with a dumb expression, not even breathing....the next, he was pressing himself into the bed, back to Jason's side, which he had left when Jason hadn't come back from the fever dreams...and Tim's whole bony form was shaking with sobbing.

 

 

The morning visit found them sleeping like dead men, wrapped around each other in an impossible position again. It was a form created just carefully enough to not hurt, but they were pressed together like twins in the womb, Tim holding Jason again (or maybe holding onto him.....).

 

 

_I thought I lost you. I felt you....slipping away. It felt like....like you were leaving and there was no way to stop you._

_I thought, again and again, about my promises. I wanted you....to stay.....And I thought that you....wouldn't. It was killing me. I didn't want to give up on you. But that seemed to be the only....logical....choice. The sane choice._

_I think I was half-ready to loose my mind. I couldn't let myself just....step forward and accept...I wanted to deny the facts. I was so sure you would leave me....And I was so angry at myself for being so sure about that. See? I couldn't let myself be delusional about your healing, because that was impossible, but....I couldn't let myself think that....I can give up on you. It was tearing be apart. I was...so angry, Jay. Angry. I was angry at the world, at myself, at the hospital, maybe even at you. Angry for pushing me into my personal Hell._

_I'm sorry. Jason, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have let myself be that fragile. Maybe I shouldn't talk like this now either. I shouldn't have let myself give up on hope! I'm so sorry....I'm sorry for being weak....I'm sorry...._

Tim whispered, or more like: breathed out softly the words into the lazy afternoon's heavy, warm air in the room, Jason's form sleeping in his arms, breathing much more easily than ever before in the last few weeks' time.

Still, Tim's fingers kept his oxygen mask in place with a soft touch.   
The horror was still too close. The fear still too real. His soul was still too....vulnerable. He needed to do everything he could to....stabilize the present. So he could let it sink and....calm down.

 

All of Jason's dotors checked him already. All of them.

He reacted to the new drug. His blood was already a bit better.

 

Tim still needed....time....probably.

 

Suddenly there was soft, slow moving next to him. Jason slowly, with some struggling, lifted his head from where he'd buried it into Tim's chest.

 

Tim's eyes widened, when he understood that Jason wanted to talk to him. It was a giant shock for him still, how lucid Jason's gaze could be, after so many time.....away.

 

'Enough' formed Jason the words carefully. Then he sighed and continued:

'I want you...to stop...hurting....Don't.....Please......So...stupid....'

Jason sighed again, blinked in an exhausted way, then kept going:

'You...were here...with me...You...didn't leave....It's more...than what...others did....You...kept your...word...Tim....you were here.....There's...nothing...to forgive....You stayed....Even if it...killed you....You stayed.....'

 

Jason fell asleep alost immediately after finishing his talk.

Tim couldn't. For a long time, he fought with his tears, a strange, strong, squeezing warmth....doing some alien, uncalled, unexplainable repair in him.

 

Maybe....there was an exit for them.

 

 

                                                                                                            *******

 

Tim was sitting on the edge of Jason's bed, staring with wide eyes in silence.

And Jason mirrored him perfectly, looking back, keeping his gaze steadily, with the same, unreadable expression on his face, the same indescribable power filling his eyes.

There was nothing to speak about. Not with words. Not anymore.

The same horrors wiped away their words, the same hellish, steady atmosphere enveloped them, after everything.....Anything and everything unnecessary was taken away, peeled off, burned out. There was peace in this raw, simple way of existence. The energy to freak out was gone.

Only the weight of their connection stayed. It was there. Finally. It'd build itself up through the passing time, through the shared suffering. And it was so powerful. Anchoring both of them to the present, to each other.

Even if it was to exist for....who could know how long....

 

The same....facts circulated between them, the same exhaustion making both of them give up on....everything meaningless: fighting over this and that, stressing over this and that, lying about everything to push away reality.

 

 

_I have no idea how to help you._

_I know. No problem. Everything is fine. You are here._

_But we need to go forward. I need you!_

_I am here._

_Come. Come with me. For me._

_I don't know how. I don't know how to give that to you. There is nothing left._

_You are here. I am here for you. Isn't that enough?_

_Is it? Can it be?_

_It IS!_

_Please...._

_Please...._

_I don't want to fight._

_I don't want to fight._

_I'm so tired. You have to see it._

_I see it. But I want to save you. Still. And I want to have you with me._

_It is too much. For you. For me._

_It's not. It is what I want. What I need._

_Please..._

_Please...._

 

 

The door was torn open like a hurricane attacked the hospital. Tim gasped in unison with Jason, then jumped up, and landed right in front of the other, shielding him.

Only to stare at a tall, black woman, in her late fifties, dressed in a nurse's uniform, wearing a lion's expression.

„I was sent here by Dr Collins” she stated with the voice of an admiral and a grandmother at once.

„Good...morning...?” Tim said a bit unsure, as the nurse simply walked around him and then stopped in front of Jason. He was already gasping for air, terror filling his eyes.

„Calm down, sweetheart! First of all: I'm here to help you, not to hurt you. Second of all: I'm not going anywhere, so it's pointless to exhaust yourself. Third: it's really not like you can outrun me right now, maybe after a few months of exercising. So, you could make **all** of our lives **a lot** easier by calming down. **Now.** Okay?” her loud, dominant, almost unconcernedly relaxed and cool style was a shock to the depressed room's atmosphere.

She didn't even wait for a response or a reaction. She stepped away from the bed, checked the monitors, then walked to the curtains and, before Tim could have stopped her or said anything, she pushed away them. Blinding light filled the room, as the year's first snowfall's white broke into the room. Everything got an unrealistic white light suddenly.

Tim looked quickly to Jason, fear strangling him. It was too much!!

Jason stared at the snow with wide eyes, his whole being mesmerized by it. And Tim's jaw dropped to the floor. He slowly turned to the nurse, who answered him with a smug smile and a small wink.

Then she started speaking again:

„Alright, sweeties. There is a lot to do, because by Christmas I want this room to be ready for someone else! You” she turned to Jason” **will** eat. Whatever your little friend brings in. Whatever we offer. Whatever we pump into you via these tunnels of healthcare” she said, glancing with a talkative expression to Jason's IV system.

Then she suddenly turned to Tim.

„And you too! I really don't need another bed to be needed in this room. It's already crowded enough! Drag your bony little ass down to the cafeteria or into whatever restaurant you like nearby, and start shoveling in some calories!”

Tim's eyes widened, and he couldn't, for the lives of both of them, form a normal sentence. He could only start nodding, like a good little pupil on his first day of school.   
Nobody caught a strange, oh-so-small, lively flicker of life passing through Jason's eyes.

„You can call me Marjorie, by the way” the nurse stated, as she marched up to Jason. Tim tensed up again, but she gave no chance for him again.

„You can make this difficult or you can make this easy. For yourself. Not me. I got my paycheck for working with you guys, so either way I **will** do my job, and only that matters to me. Not the ways I reach my aim. So.....what do you want?” and she held a thermometer in front of Jason's mouth.

Tim wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep.....or maybe into another reality....because after an unsure, hesitant moment, Jason opened his mouth.

„Good job! Now....take good care of that equipment, I want it back in five. If you damage it, you only make me repeat this examination. Nothing else will come out of it, understood? Understood”

And with that, she turned away.

„Keep an eye on him until his meds start to work, then leave and eat!” she ordered Tim, as he left the room.

„What...meds?” Tim squeezed out.

Marjorie only held up three empty syringes as an answer, then left.

There were two of the Bats in the room. And neither of them had caught her filling the syringes into the IV sets, right in front of their staring eyes....

Tim dragged himself back to Jason, their shocked expressions mirroring each other perfectly, then pulled out the thermometer from the other's mouth, when it started to beep softly.

 

It was one made for difficult kids. Jason could have bitten into it with all his power, and it wouldn't have been damaged, not giving a chance for the older boy to hurt himself by that.

 


	19. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After so many things....you failed to outrun the darkness....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> There are no words to say how much it means to me that you read this story, and all the attention this story got already! Thank you so much!!
> 
> This chapter is the darkest, Dear Readers. I'm not just croaking, I'm serious.   
> You won't like it, I guess.   
> Give it a chance and stay with me....?
> 
> WARNING: pain, gore, fire, death

You know why madness is so dangerous? Why you **should** be afraid of mad people?  
They are unpredictable.

Just like with rabid animals.

You cannot see their next step. You cannot guess what comes next. You cannot trust in your mind anymore to tell when they have a good day or a bad one. One second, one heartbeat and everything changes, turns upside down, flies out the window. One minute can be good, then the next one? Total red haze.

This is the true threat in their nature. Everything is a threat, especially the fact that you cannot know **when** they are stable and connected to reality and **when** exactly they leave you and start wreaking havoc.

And there is no reason for anything anymore, a simple word, an everyday happening can be a trigger to lead them away into wonderland, leaving behind a body with a deranged autopilot system to destroy anything or anyone in reality.....

Or...even a trigger is not necessary anymore....

 

But always keep in mind another fact about this danger: just because you cannot see the maze of their mind, cannot understand the broken ways of their thinking, cannot get their reasons (when or if there are reasons)...that doesn't mean they don't have thoughts, doesn't mean there is no way of thinking (even if it is messy or broken) or no thinking...

 

….and it certainly doesn't mean they cannot plan something.

 

 

***********

 

 

Life is a river. It goes and goes on, the flow making its way, leving behind itself, and a totally changed landscape. It changes and changes the world around itself. Its smoothing work struggles over the barriers which it meets with, then envelopes them, and buries them. Making them its own parts. Sometimes hiding them forever or changes them so totally that nobody can recognize the past there anymore.

 

Life is a river. It takes you with itself. Changes you.

You can call it merciless. You can call it pure love.

The flow is there still, no matter what you call it, what you wish for, what you do.

You are part of the flow forever.

 

And it goes on and on and on.

 

 

Tim didn't mind the flow of their lives. It was too easy to love it actually.

 

 

 

Marjorie was a force of nature. You couldn't stand a chance against her. Things simply happened the way she planned them. End of story.

She was a badass and passionate nurse and her whole life helped her to polish her skills to perfection.

Tim only once had made the mistake to speak against her orders.

„I don't think we should force him. That's just....you see.....I mean.....I respect you, nurse, but he is...so...fragile. You see? I mean....I mean....we didn't do that that way before. Becauseheoftenhadananxietyattackyeahsorry...” Tim's words had become more and more rushed and high and quiet, as Marjorie had turned slowly to face him. And had started to stare.

Tim, secretly: Bat. Marjore, totally well-known: nurse.

The outcome had been so predictable....

„Sorry” he had whispered after a few seconds.

The woman in front of him had been an iceberg. A mountain of ice more properly. A dark and evil mountain.

„Yes, Mr Drake, you _should_ be sorry. That's right. I know how to do my job, and I don't accept anyone to tell me how to do it. I believe the exact same thing can be said about you, when you are at your company, right? Don't ruin my chances to do my tasks, and don't slow me down at bringing our work closer to its aim, mainly to help your friend to heal!” the crescendo of her official, hard words and the weight of her resentment had been enough to break Tim. He had been a kid again, in the middle of a scolding.

„Sorry, sorry, I'm just afraid!” he yelped finally „I just want what's the best for everyone!”

Marjorie's face finally had become softer.

„I know how to do that, thank you. Now, do everyone a favour, and go, have some breakfast!” she had said almost sweetly.

It had been almost three in the afternoon.   
And yes, Tim had forgotten to have anything else next to an old donut from the day before.....

Nobody had asked him about his meals that day. Yet, Marjorie had known....

He had gulped and glanced at Jason, who had stared back at him with shock too.

„It's just....I usually stayed” he had tried one last time, keeping the eye contact with Jason. More for his own sake than Jason's this time.

„And it was probably a messed-up decision in the past, Mr Drake. I can understand why your presence was necessary earlier, but these days are different. I hope we agree on that...?” Marjorie had said impatiently.

And....they had been. Jason had been better. It had been easy to make him eat, most days they had had meals together! He'd looked less pale, he had talked with Tim (slowly, with a few words always, but still....he had been answering questions and he had been arguing with Tim about different things from time to time, not to mention things he had mentioned from the outside world: the curtains had stayed open, and Jason had stared to that world for hours, finally without terror), he had moved his 'hands' again and again these days carefully.

„I..eh....yeah...Yes, we can agree” he had given up with some sorrow and fear in his heart.

Tim had collected his clothes, caressed Jason's scared face and slipped out from the room.

 

Only to stop two steps to the left from the room.

 

„Look, Mr Peterson, I can see you are terrified, but I have to tell you the hard truth: I don't see why you are this way, and the hospital, with all of Mr Drake's kindness and financial support, cannot really let itself miss a group of staff from work for your sake, again and again, many times a day! Especially now, that you are on the way of recovery! You can't really tell me that you are mentally deranged, we both know that it isn't true. Which means I cannot see why would you cling to your behavior from earlier, and make us fight with you for simple tasks. I'm not here to fight with you. I'm not here to hurt you, I didn't try to eat you earlier, I won't do that in the future earlier. Please let me do my job and help you. That's all why I'm here” Marjorie had talked with her powerful, strict, never unkind, straight style, using a calm, but dominant voice. She had never let them have much room to disagree.

 

Tim had been sure that there hadn't been any chances for him to hear if Jason had answered.

The hissing, strong whispers, which Jason had developed for himself as a way of talking, with his oxygen mask (Tim had always forced him to use it still) had been enough help.

'Do you really...think that?'

„What, Mr Peterson?” asked Marjorie patiently.

'Recovery.....Mine....'

„Oh, honey” Marjorie's voice had suddenly become warm and sweet „It's not a thought! It's a fact. And it's so obvious! You will be just fine. Maybe your journey of recovery will be a bit longer, but nonetheless it's recovery!”

'I...don't feel...it...I...out there...again....'

 

Tim's heart had been squeezed painfully in his chest at that.

 

„Don't worry. You will go out there, I don't have any doubts about that! Just see how far you've already travelled on this road just since I'm here! You are a lot stronger. And with this will keep going on. You will get used to life again. You will go out there and conquer that world for yourself! I know it's extremely hard to believe this now. I know you feel destroyed. But it's not a final condition, not for you. This is what you should keep in mind, when it becomes too much to bear: this is not a permanent place or status for you! Only temporary. And **it is** a struggle to get over it, but it's worth it! And I'm sure many of us here, in the hospital, would appreciate the effort of you finally appreciating our efforts and cooperating, making our job easier, your healing faster, everybody's lives better” and with that final, dry humour-coated, honest dig, Marjorie had led them back into reality, after the amazing kindness and impossible-to-dismiss-from-your-heart support it had been normally so hard she had had in herself.

 

Oh, how Tim had wished she hadn't used thow words about conquering! They had been so close to the truth, but in Jason's past already.....

 

'I....it's...just....I...was....different....' Jason had panted.

 

After that there had been silence in the room for awhile.

Then quietly, a sad and compassionate Marjorie answered, with the wisdom of many, many nurses of human history, who had seen so much during their times:

„I know, sweetie. I know. I wish I could give you back everything you lost, but that is beyond me. I can only help you in dealing with the present. And maybe help a bit with how to live with what you have, how to keep yourself together and make the most of your future, as a human being. You can still have a full life in your future, sweetie. That's what we all wish for you here. Especially your little friend, who is so ready to burn himself into dust with all that fire in himself, which he all plans to use up for you!” she'd finished softly.

 

Jason had answered with an almost inaudible sigh:

'I know....Love him….so...so much...for..everything...'

 

Tim had felt his face burning off of its place.   
Of course he had known such words had meant nothing, not in such a situation, but....God, how he had wished as a kid during his lonely nights after running after Batman and Robin to hear such words, just once, in his life!!!

 

After tidying up Jason and his bed, all alone, without any kind of major disaster, a surprised Marjorie had found an embarassed Tim close to the door of her new favourite patient's room. She had been a professional. She had only lifted one eyebrow at the severely blushing boy.

 

„I....I just wanted to say, that I” big gulp of breath „I'm sorry for underestimating you!”

Marjorie had just smiled that small, majestic, blinding smile of hers.

„Get out and eat something, before I make you do that, Mr Drake” she had growled, and left Tim alone, taking away the dirty laundry in her arms.

 

Marjorie was their Alfred these days. Although she was a lot more frightening. And direct. And knew no shame. Or the feeling of surprise.

 

Tim and Jason fell asleep together these days in the oddest positions or times: the middle of their already famous, silent or semi-silent conversations, just before the visit of the whole wing's doctors at noon, after the quick afternoon check-ups, right before Marjorie's biggest visit.

Once, Tim fell down from the edge of Jason's bed from his suddenly happened afternoon nap to his ass. So, he could stare up at a shocked Jason and the hopeless expression of Marjorie, who was in the middle of a blood-pressure-check.

„I have eight grandchildren” she announced „None of them caused this much trouble and headache ever in my life, including the one who decided to be a pyrotechnic. When he was seven”

 

 

„I just....cannot see why you like this!” Tim complained with confusion to the totally satisfied Jason, who enjoyed the afternoon nestled into his blankets, half-asleep, on Tim's chest with his head. Tim read the The Catcher in the Rye that day for the other. He never liked that story.

'Empathy....Hope....Somebody comes for you....' whispered Jason, before closing his eyes.

Tim sighed once. Then kept reading. The next day would be his to choose something.

Reading was a new thing. Jason had just kept annoying him with never enjoying the movies he picked, but never suggesting anything else either. So, one day Tim had, on a whim, just bought a book from the hospital's small giftshoop, a classic, and it had been one of the biggest successes of cheering Jason up since day one.

He had felt like a fool because of that. Why hadn't he seen this opportunity earlier?!?!

But it worked, so it was success.

 

 

The first laugh's happening was something Tim was sure he would never be able to forget.

Alfred sent a lovely combination of chestnut-cream with lots of homemade whipped cream after a rich soup.

Both of them left the soup for later, and ate the sweet dessert like hungry pigs.

And of course both of the forgot Marjorie's promise, to call down the head physician for an extra check in that afternoon, since Jason's kidneys really didn't react well to the antibiotics, which had saved his life.

So, when the door of the room was suddenly torn open, as usual, Tim's head turned there quickly, but his hand finished the automatic motion with the spoon too.

He smeared a wonderful amount of creamy sweets on Jason's face thoroughly.

For a few seconds silence filled the room, Jason blinking out of the creamy mask with surprise, Tim staring down with horror at Jason and his guilty hand, still hovering above Jason. Marjorie and Jason's doctor stood frozen on their spots at the door, although the doctor looked like someone getting ready to retreat, and Marjorie.....looked like someone who could end up easily and quickly as a reason for a retreat....

Then Jason licked around his mouth noisily, and hissed into the silence:

'So....will you...lick me...clean...and I...will get...your portion...or...what now?'

Tim's jaw fell down to the floor, then, he could almost see it, hopped away, out from the room. No. No. He didn't imagine the sparkles of fun in Jason's eyes watching him!!

He started giggling like a madman, then giant guaffs of laughter erupted out from him. And he just couldn't stop!

And Jason suddenly shook under him too, and when he stared down in shock and fear, he could see his eyes still sparkling, and a smile covering his face. Under the cream, of course! Jason was laughing!

Tim felt his whole soul soaring up to the sky, then beyond that, straight to the Sun, to bathe in the blazing flames there.

Marjorie and the doctor behind her stared at them like both of them became mad. Disbelief and helplessness covered their faces.

 

Then Tim, without having a clue about what he was doing, leaned down and with a shameless, slurping noise, licked a wide line on Jason's face.   
„Done!” he announced with pride, as he sat back.

Jason's eyes widened at that almost comically. Then they narrowed to slits.

'And my portion?' he hissed with menacingly.

„Well, yeah, it's only fair that way!” Tim barked with a grin, and letting the craziness of the movement bloom into its total form, he smeared whipped cream onto his own face with one easy movement. Then leaned down, over Jason, with challenge shining in his eyes.

He wasn't really ready for Jason licking him back. He thought his prank would go away to its death with an angry huff from the other.

But as soon as he turned his head to the side, something warm and wet touched his face in a short line. He pulled back with shock in his eyes, just in time to see Jason swallow, mischief still there in his eyes.

Of course he couldn't let Jason win that round!

„If I had known this was the way to make you accept food, I would have started covering our faces with food a lot earlier!” he said in a nonchalant way.

When they both restarted snickering was the moment for the Wrath of Marjorie to fall upon the lovely moment and the world.

„Enough, enough, now! What happened to you? This is a _hospital_!” she yelled, shattering the giggles of the two shocked boys and shaking them up to the reality of the danger in front of them.

Marjorie quickly turned to the doctor, who's face quickly lost the entertained, relaxed expression from a second earlier, to end up as collected, with some badly disguised fear.

„I'm so sorry, Dr Collins. I will tidy up this room quickly and speak through the rules of a hospital for grown up, intelligent human beings with these two gentlemen” she growled with the interesting mixture of annoyance and a polite apology „I'm deeply sorry to take up your time in vain. I'll go fetch you again when Mr Peterson is ready for a visit”

When she whirled away, Tim could have sworn he saw relief on the face of the doctor, as the lucky man left the room. Relief, and maybe some sympathy.

 

„I honest to GOD haven't seen so reckless behavior since my first days as a nurse!!! In front of your physician, Mr Peterson!? Why?! Why?! Nobody would wish to take away your jovial times, which finally arrived, thank God, but why couldn't you behave like adults?! This isn't the psychiatric wing of the hospital! This is the rehabilitation center for trauma, for God's sake!!”

Marjorie's lament was long and angry. It lasted long enough for the whole cleaning up and Jason drinking his soup.

When the nurse finally left the room, Tim truly felt bad. A little.

Then he glanced down at Jason, who was already watching him with a thoughtful expression.

„Totally worth it!” said Tim out loud.

 

 

 

Childish behavior wasn't really that amazing. But it was something else than desperation. And Tim already had given up questioning why things worked well or if things should have happened differently or not and instead...he just loved to enjoy some damn progress finally.

Especially after he had to see how deeply messed up his university courses had become, poisoning his life's other part.   
„Shit” he cursed one afternoon, his eyes reading with less and less hope and more and more stress the lines on his phone.

The soft humming noise from his embrace meant a really good, universal question for him these days. Whatsupnowhm?

„It's just.....my philosophy professor lost his mind. End of story. There is no other explanation in this world what I can accept!” he fumed.

Jason slowly moved somewhere among the blankets, and Tim knew too well he would stop his nap to ask him about his mess, so he answered already:

„I have to write an essay.....about.....Shakespeare's impression.....on the style of communication between the public and the theatres in the two hundred years following his death?! What?!” he said more and more bitterly „I should have given up this nightmare a long tie ago! I'm not even interested in philosophy!”

The soft thud on his chest finally pulled him out of his misery. He looked down at Jason with surprise. He must have knocked his head softly to Tim's body to finally attract some attention.

„Um...yeah? Sorry....” he mumbled.

Jason started talking the old way, only moving his lips, but Tim couldn't really understand him that way.

„Sorry, for one second I have to take it away!” he said quickly, stopping the other, and pulling away carefully the mask „I will put it back in a sec, but I couldn't understand you with this in place” he apologized.

'I don't need it constantly and you know it” answered Jason with a dry expression in his face, then continued, and Tim understood why he wanted to use his old talking method, which meant no mask, of course. He had a lot to say:

'This task is not difficult. You just need to turn it around. The professor wanted you all to struggle with it. But that's not necessary at all. You should keep in mind that the communication between people, all kind of people, and people from the theatres, staff which wanted to serve them with a good show, is the key element of this essay. Shakespeare is a secondary thing in it. This essay is about people and their communication, and mostly about two groups, joined together deeply. One group wants a good show, and back in those days, it wasn't that hard to tell straight to the faces of the creators your opinion. Especially if you were unsatisfied. The other group? They wanted to make money. With art, with their show, but still: in those days being in a theatre and working there was just a job. You needed to work well to earn well. It wasn't that noble world back then, Tim. Shakespeare was a star in that world. But still just a person who earned money. I'm not sure about anything specific....but this professor of yours teaches philosophy. Maybe he wants to read about how clearly you can show that this type of communication was all about demands, many days probably very different kind of demands, as people have different tastes and maybe one needed more drama, when another wanted to laugh......and on the other part of this communication? A group which tried to serve everybody's taste. And tried to calm down unsatisfied people. And tried to find out what would be a huge success in the next season......I guess after Shakespeare's death....It must have been a struggle to stop people demand shows which were similar to his. It must have been all about finding a new Shakespeare and when that need couldn't have been fulfilled.....help people accept the new things' beauty.'

Jason closed his eyes with exhaustion, as a shocked Tim quickly pushed back the mask to his face.

'Don't need it' hissed Jason quickly, angrily.

„Okay. You don't need it. But I'm much more relaxed when you have it” he answered quickly, still staring at Jason. Of yourse it didn't stay unnoticed.

'What?' he hissed with annoyance. Jason hated when Tim stared at him so long.

„It's just....I just read you the title. And you just....just made an essay out of it for me....in like...five seconds? You didn't even need to think much about it....” he murmured his amazement.

Jason dropped his head back, without saying anything.

„Really, Jay. It's just....you're amazing. You should have a major in....whatever connects to your love of litterature” Tim said softly.

'Shutup' Jason hissed, burying back himself into the blankets.

Tim let him have his wolverine moment, but he was a bit annoyed by himself. It was a bad habit in the whole family to keep forgetting how intelligent Jason was.

And a few hours later life ended.

 

Tim's phone ringed with the tone he couldn't really believe to hear.

It was his emergency ringtone. Only one person knew about it: Oracle.

He slipped away from a sleeping Jason, and picked it up only when he stepped out to the corridor.

„It's double R, I heard strange chirping, what is it?” he growled his code into the phone.

„It's me, big sis, your ears weren't wrong, we have birdproblem” came the proper answer quickly, which meant Tim's worst fears were coming true.

„You are needed, double R. There was a giant breakout from Arkham”

 

Tim only said a few clumsy words to the nurses as he was throwing his clothes onto himself. Nothing really meaningful or important...or intelligent. Desperation and fear clawed at him, as he watched Jason's sleeping form.

What could he cause with leaving him without goodbye? Because this could be the last time he saw Jason, this wasn't just a quick walk to the nearest coffee shop....

Well.....it wasn't like he could wake him up to tell the truth. And maybe this was the better way for Jason's psyche too....

He had to go. Whatever had made Oracle call him, it had been bad enough to make the older girl nervous. It had been clear on the phone.

 

Tim left without looking back.

 

 

It was a lot worse than just a giant breakout. Because it was still a work in progress when Tim arrived there not much before sunset.

It was Hell's gate itself. The buildings' many parts were burning powerfully, giant flames touching the sky as horrific pillars, the fog and the smoke covering many parts of the landscape in a nerve-racking and suffocating, crazy haze, people running around everywhere, the early winter's promise heavy in the air, telling everyone how being anywhere near would be a choice between freezing and burning soon.

Tim already hated it, as he slipped closer, listening to Oracle's orders. _Find the others. Try to fabricate some order. Protect those who came to help from the inmates. Separate the work of saving the buildings from the fire and the work of keeping the inmates inside or wherever they could be kept._

Many dangerous criminals had escaped. Many people had died already. The most worrisome part was the fact that nobody could know for sure who was still in Arkham, who was outside freely, who was dead, who needed help under the ruins still.

Since a few hours before Harley Quinn and a group of 'simple' crazies had broken out with the price of a terrible fight, firefighters and policemen had to be more careful and do their jobs slower. And they simply had to avoid some parts of the ruins, where their safety just couldn't be guaranteed.

Tim could see how lost their fight for control was in the best places with the most organized groups working as hard as they could....He couldn't see how putting out the flames, digging out anyone from under the wrecks and keeping back the criminals could happen at once. What worried him even more was that Oracle had promised him that finding Nightwing and Robin would be easy. He could have sworn he already saw Huntress fighting back a small group of nobodies into a semi-broken corridor at the south, but....where the smoke was the thickest, it was impossible to see anything. But nobody else from the family was anywhere as far as he could see.

Tim ran around the broken gates of the main supply-building, finding no entrance for himself.

He cursed, but then, as he tried to figure out how to get actually closer, the ground shook, and the whole northern part of Arkham started to disappear in a row of explosions!

He heard screaming, and even standing before the giant supply-building in relative safety, he felt the waves of heat, and he had to throw himself down onto the ground, as an explosion distroyed who-knows-what, and hot, still burning shards of something started to rain on the area, even this far from the northern buildings.

He waited under his cape's wide feathers as long as he could. And when the rain of fiery pain kept coming down on him, he lifted the cape around himself and ran.

 

After a few hundred meters, Tim stopped, and turned back to see what the hell happened.

It was a horrific nightmare springing into existence. He watched with a frozen soul and a screaming mind as human forms ran out from the buildings, or escaped from the close proximity of Arkham, prisoners, guards, other parts of the staff, and everyone who had come to help too.

Many of their bodies were on fire. They were screaming, fighting with the flames devouring them, throwing themselves down onto the ground, but without any success: the fire still stayed on them alive.

Tim's hammering heart was the only sound soon which he could hear, as the suffocating fog grew and grew, covering some of the terrible picture, as he fought his very own fight with the flames covering his cape.

The smell of the terrible smoke, tortured buildings and burned flesh filled his nose, shaking apart some of the last remnants of his inner calm. He knew too well how this smell would not change around him in the upcoming hours....and even after that it woulc, would stay with him....

 

The static noise in the comm soon disappeared totally as his terror grew. Only his hammering heart and his gasping breathing stayed. What the hell could keep this flames go so mercilessly? It didn't smell like anything chemical!!

Soon, he had to give up. He turned away from Arkham and ran and ran. The water closed over his head like a cool, deadly, understanding heavenly power. He had to let himself sink a bit to finally kill the fire on his costume.

Then he fought himself back to surface, spat out some water, and let hope's smallest little flickers appear in his soul. The fire was gone, and by some miracle, his suit was still in one piece. This was it!

 

He struggled out of the water, and sighed once as he saw that others had the same idea as him, and burning forms of humans were running into the water too.

He let himself work on his small computer on his wrist (only half of it was working but that was enough) for two whole minutes, to send Oracle a quick, hellish report and let her know what could help with the fire. Total consumption of it by water (or maybe anything else, which could work the same way).

He had no time to wait for an answer.

 

Tim ran back to the wreckage, told anyone who he could see to go, go to the water, or help bringing the people who couldn't move but were still alive there.

It was almost impossible to find anyone who could have represented leadership, some kind of authority or anything. Everyone was covered in ash, looking the same, everyone was confused by all the horrors around themselves, many people were still burning, screaming in pain on the ground, ready to give up. Those who died already made it even harder to move, to get anywhere, to do anything. Burning bodies lay everywhere, behind them the unnaturally bright, orange-yellow flames were eating up the buildings, blackness of the smoke covering everything above.

 

Tim finally found a group of firefighters, after running in the impossible hell of death for so long, that his cape caught fire again, and his lungs, even with his rebreather, started to give up.

The two dozens of heroes were still fighting with the flames. Tim couldn't know why, couldn't see anything which could have been saved still. But they were there, holding their ground, keeping their pathetic little water-columns stubbornly against the monstrous ocean of flames.

„You have to go!” screamed Tim to them with the little oxygen he had left, as he neared them „It's over! No point to stay here! We have to go to the water! Arkham is gone! You will die if you stay here! There is nothing left, the fire covers everything already!”

One of the firefighters came closer and yelled back through his mask the only thing which could have made Tim feel even worse:

„Nightwing is still inside!!!!”

 

Almost ten minutes. As the heat became unbearable, and the smoke covered the group within a lethal hug, not letting them see anything else anymore but the building burning away and darkness, they still stayed for ten minutes. Tim ran up and down, followed by two men, trying to find a way in. It was a crazy thing to do. Totally crazy. But he couldn't....he couldn't just....

Then, with a giant crash, half of the wall of an old building nearby gave it up. It fell down with an earth-shattering sound and impact.

Tim just stared at it with shock. It was so huge and it just...cracked in the impossible heat.

Without the water from the truck, they would have been dead already. And Tim understood, finally, that they couldn't stay anymore.

They had to go.

He couldn't understand how, but...something had to be in his cracking, hellish voice, because one simple order was enough to make the firefighters retreat.

He sat on the back of the car, as it climbed out from Hell itself, looking back again and again, and Tim knew that they lost today.

 

He had no idea how many people could have died. He had no idea what to do. He had no idea how to tell Oracle, once he could leave this place, that Dick was dead.

He sat among the others, half in the water, not caring about it's freezing temperature, because it was lovely, it was divine, it was perfect, it was life in comparison to the unnatural warmth, which still reached again and again the injured, dying, hopeless, broken people waiting for help. Even that far from the burning ruins.

Tim felt like he himself burned out that night.

The chaos had done it. The chaos. Nobody had known what to do, nobody had know how to do anything useful, and then the fire-rain had happened, and then...it had been too late to do anything.

 

It was Catwoman who pulled him down from the little ship which Tim left Arkham with. The boy was still in a haze, thanks to all the pain, all the horrors he'd had to survive and see. It had been pure luck that he had been pushed up onto the small fishing boat among other forms covered in blackness, that he hadn't been recognized.

Or maybe just nobody had been able to care.

 

He had been in one piece, not burned, so everybody's focus had been on sending him and the others similar to him (the lucky few )away safely. So others, who had needed much more help, had been able to get it.

 

Catwoman had been there, when the first breakout had happened. And she had got injured.

That had saved her.

 

Now she could pull Tim after herself, into a car, and a long drive later, Tim realized that he was pulled and then shoved and shoved, and then....

Strong, long arms enveloped him, and a shaking form was pushed close to him. Or maybe he was pushed to it?

„Master Timothy....oh, my God....You are alive too....Master Timothy”

Only the voice of his almost-grandfather could have pulled him out from his stupor.

It was Alfred! For real! The tearful, relieved eyes of Alfred were staring into his, it was his hug, which held him, probably together to stay alive at that moment.

„Thank you so much, for bringing him home, Miss Kyle” murmured the old butler, not looking away for a second from Tim's face.

„Your welcome, Alfred! I was happy to help at least with this. I have to go back. Helena is still missing” her voice became strained at the end.

The fog over Tim's brain was strong, but he could cough up some words, after realizing it was Huntress she talked about.

„I saw her! I remember. Huntress was there. In a building. She fought. But that was before the explosions....And she wasn't in the northern ones” he mumbled with a weak voice.

„Thank you” he heard a weak, almost whispering sound, it was so....hurt?

A car drove away, and Tim was almost dragged into the manor.

He couldn't understand a thing.

 

He only knew that everything changed.

Maybe they were in danger. Maybe dozens and dozens of dangerous criminals could roam freely in Gotham, and those who usually could fight against them.....those people missed a few members....

Maybe too many were dead to matter anymore.

Maybe nothing mattered anymore.

 

He was led down into the Cave. Alfred probably talked to him, but he couldn't be sure about that.

He should be talking too, someone had to tell the old man that another grandchildren had died, and another was missing.

 

And then they stepped into the infirmary, and Tim stepped so suddenly, Alfred almost lost his balance because of him.

 

Tim and Dick stared at each other, then the terribly dirty, but only mildly burned Dick stood up and started to walking to them. Tim's mind only had a few seconds to realize that the small form on one of the beds, covered in bandages, had to belong to Damian.

Then Dick hugged him and he started crying and everything disappeared in a haze.

 

 

Yes. That night they had lost. Many, many people had died. Many bad guys had escaped.

But they were all alive, and as they talked through the happening, everyone agreed on counting that as a giant success, and, in their situation, the only thing they would count as important.

Even Huntress was okay. Although she had been the unluckiest among them (not counting Damian, who had burned quite badly), because she had had to leave Arkham in the end by swimming. She had had to swim almost until dawn, when finally a ship had found her and she had been brought back too.

Now she faced the chances of a bad kind of pneumonia.

 

 

 

They had no idea who was free now from Arkham. The western parts were almost intact, and some parts of the southern too. That was all they knew. The prisoners who stayed in their cells during the whole catastrophe were there. That's all.

They couldn't know for sure who was dead and who was alive and free and dangerous.

For weeks they wouldn't know either. Too many people were dead from the groups, which usually did the whole checking-if-it's-safe-to-go-there works, and even more were dead from searching-for-dead-bodies-and-traces groups.

They didn't really need specialists to know that the wreckage was too dangerous still to go there and do anything.

 

Dick told Tim with soft, almost whispering words, as they sat next to Damian's bed, that it was a miracle they were alive.

„The building was burning through too quickly. Damian and I want too far inside. We couldn't get out. When the explosions started, one destroyed the level we were at. It opened a whole crater to the levels under us. That was the thing which saved us. We grappled down, and we left the building thanks to the tunnels....I wasn't careful enough. It was my fault Damian got burned. But I could bring him out, and....we could get away. But then...I couldn't get back. The explosions did too much damage” Dick lifted his gaze from the floor to Tim, his eyes betraying his inner terror „With the comms down, I had no idea what was going on with anyone....with you....”

Tim quickly shook his head.

„I'm fine. Everything is fine. Don't even think about it” he murmured.

„Tim, it could have....”

„Yes! It could have been worse, but we are all alive and well. Let's keep that in mind!” he said stubbornly. Then he stared into Dick's eyes.

„I stayed so long in the flames because I thought you are still there. The firefighters didn't see you leaving the building, so they stayed....I wanted to do something, I wanted to help you, to save you. In the end, I ordered everyone to leave....”

Dick softly answered after a few heartbeats:

'That's what you had to do! Everybody should have made the same decision, Tim, in that situation. You know it.”

„Yeah, I know. But it doesn't make it any easier to live with that” said Tim, then started to get up. A hand on his wrist stopped him.

„It couldn't have helped, not even a bit, to stay, if you hadn't had a chance to do anything for anyone trapped in the buildings. I'm happy you decided to leave finally. I'm happy. It would have killed me to know you died because of me.....” Dick said with a squeeze, then he let go of Tim's wrist.

Tim slowly thought through Dick's words, then slowly nodded.

„I'm happy we are all alive. And that it's over” he whispered.

Dick glanced back at Damian and nodded too.

They both knew how difficult it would be to forget.

 

Tim decided to stay only for day and one one night. He actually called the hospital and made a nurse tell Jason that he had a bike accident, and he would go back to him tomorrow morning.

„He will know it's a lie” Barbara told him through the phone.

„Yeah, I know, but for the hospital's staff, it will be enough. For Jason....I'm undecided. I don't know what to tell”

„As much as I hate this advice, telling him the truth isn't a good idea”

Tim snorted at that.

„You don't say?? Now, tell me something I want to know. What happened to the comms, when we were at Arkham?”

„I'm sorry Tim. Steph and I work with the speed of a whole team, but I can only tell so much...I could get some flows coming out, but there were no chances of communication getting in there, or comms working among themselves in there. I can only guess that the explosions were more than what they looked to be.”

Tim sighed. Nothing would be found on the island after that horrible fire. No sources of those explosions, no explanation, nothing. The identification of the corpses would be a nightmare too, they already knew that.

„Thanks Barbara, tell me when you find something!”

„Will do. Goodnight, Tim!”

„Goodnight!”

 

 

Tim felt...messed up in the morning. Wringed, like an old towel. Broken, like an old dirty mug. Burned out....like the buildings on the island....

 

He sighed once, as he stared into his bathroom's mirror.

'Fuck...who the hell I am?' he asked silently from the ugly picture in front of his eyes. Bloodshot eyes stared back without answers.

Especially without telling him how to get rid of the worry in his stomach. Worry about Jason, and worry about how to explain him his terrible outlook, the burns here and there, and his...shaken atmosphere.

Jason would notice it, Tim just knew.

He would notice everything. Jason was too attuned to him these days.

 

For awhile Tim thought about staying a bit more, then he thought about different plans to make sure their day would be...good...with Jason....then he thought about the fucking drama their lives was nonstop, groaned, and gave up.

He felt so exhausted!!!

Tim crawled out from the manor like it was the enemy's nest where he needed a perfect escape from. Not just him. But Red Robin!

 

He drove back to the hospital by autopilot, arriving to the building without being able to remember his way.

Another sigh, and he quickly walked to the elevators.

 

What the fuck would happen....?

 

Jason's eyes were on him the moment he stepped into the room. And they widened immediately at the sight.

'What happened?' he hissed as loudly as he could. Worry was burning brightly in his eyes.

Tim couldn't really tell himself why it felt so good to see and hear this reaction, but it made his whole chest feel warm. Suddenly a weight was lifted from his shoulders, and something bitter and cold slipped away from his heart, leaving behind a handleable kind of exhaustion, even if it was amazingly deep, reaching his bones.

He answered with a small smile, which he could feel to be his own, and then he quickly shook his head.

On his way to the bed, daring to wake up the Wrath oh Marjorie again, he shrugged out of his coat and jumper, kicked down his shoes and even threw down his scarf, leaving everything on the floor.

He dumped his body next to Jason like a bag of potatoes, faceplanting himself to Jason's pillow's side.

„Later.....Please” he murmured, and not moving an inch he sighed once, washing out his lungs and his soul.

Nothing mattered here, only the two of them. This place was good, this place was all about Jason's healing, nothing could reach them here. Nothing from the outside world.

Pain finally loosened his hold on him, and Tim, in the moments before he lost consciousness, felt Jason's forehead touching softly his shoulder, as he lay on his stomach...and he honestly loved this stupid, pathetic hospital room.

 

 

_Something is there. You brought it with yourself after yesterday....When you were away...._

_Don't rile yourself up because of nothing. It's nothing._

_Liar._

_Maybe I am._

_What is it? Why are you lying?_

 

For awile only wide open eyes stared into each other's depths, seeing so much but not enough.   
Then Tim relented.

 

_I can only tell you that something bad happened. That's all Jason._

_Danger?_

_No, I don't think that's still true._

_Why are you so..hurt...?_

 

Tim's eyes widened at that. Of course their silent converstaions were all about comunicating by feelings and letting each other see the feelings, but it was still a shock from time to time how clear and precise this unbelievable way of communication could be between them.....

 

_I worry._

_Why?_

_Stupid question._

_Yeah, really...?_

_Drop it._

_I don't want to..._

_Jason, please..._

_Please_

_I just....don't want to talk about it....I don't know how...._

 

Some silent staring came, then Jason sighed a bit through his nose.

 

_Later?_

_Yeah...maybe....thanks, Jay..._

 

Two days passed without any disasters, and Tim started to sink back into their routine. He loved it.

And he desperately needed to find the perfect way to tell Jason about his surgeries for his hands. Soon.

 

Their (his) failure started to loose its strength in clawing at his insides. And Jason let it all go away.

Tim had reasons to be grateful.

 

Until one evening his phone started ringing.

He was just next to the window, staring out to the fresh snowfall's beauty in an absent-minded way. Jason was sleepy already, after dinner, after evening meds, after Marjorie's last visit.

Tim whirled around with fear in his heart, he knew what that ringtone meant. Then he realized his fucking mistake and stared at Jason, only to meet with way too alert eyes.

For a second he didn't move, didn't even breathe really, just stared.

It was too late already. Jason knew. Jason knew that something terrible had happened and something terrible was happening.

 

So Tim let him know.

 

_I have to go_

 

Silence and something heavy filled the room, as grey-blue got lost in greenish-blue. The connection between them ended up strained to the maximum, maybe ready to snap......

and then....

it was a whisper even without words....

 

_I was surprised that world let you stay away for this long_

 

And Jason turned away his head.

Breaking Tim's heart (again) with that simple movement.

 

„I will come back! I won't stay away for long! I won't leave you alone!” he almost yelled, determination burning in his voice.

He had to walk around the bed with heavy, powerful steps, ignoring the fucking phone's ringing, to look down at Jason's empty, distant face.

„I will come back” he promised, caressing the unruly hair a few times.

But no answer came. Not even a quick look out from the corner of Jason's eye.

 

„Sorry” he said with a heavy heart, as he collected his clothes and left the room.

 

Tim spent the next four hours with the most maddening hide-n-seek of his life.

Snow and melting snow and darkness and cold was the basic background of it. Then came the break-ins at half a dozen places. Then a blackout at a hospital (luckily: not Jason's).   
Then came the car crashes and small explosions all. Over. The. City.

Nobody died, nobody got really hurt, but people got scared quickly, and the chaos of Arkham's fall was there, lurking in the atmosphere of the whole goddamn night, promising Tim hellish things, as he, and the whole family, and everyone who was ready to help them, including the police ran around Gotham, trying to stop every small catastrophe happening.

 

„It has to be someone's doing” panted Stephanie, as she got rid of three burglars with quick precision. They were no match for her, but she was already over eight other similar small fights, and she ran like the others through the whole night, and she started to became really angry.

„I have to agree, but without any communication between the lunatics destroying Gotham, I cannot listen into their plans and to something!” answered a desperate Oracle. After a second then a third blackout, she got really nervous. What if her energy would be the next? Then she would be without his eyes or ears, meaning no help and without any chance to call for help if necessary...

„I think you kids should check out Crime Alley” came Catwoman's dazed voice suddenly.

„Why?” yelled Tim back.

„End of the world” slurred Catwoman, before her comm gave it up.

Everyone started to run and fly like speedsters there....

 

                                                                                                             *****

 

Jason was sure he should have been sleeping for a long time. But he couldn't. Fear and worry clawed at him. Tim would never let him know things the younger one already had decided about to keep as a secret.

But Jason couldn't get rid of the worry that it could be something in connection to him.

What could it be?

Arkham...? They would take him back?

The doctors had bad news?

Was he dying?

Or something else? From outside? Something dangerous for him?

The phonecall....That was the key. But Jason couldn't figure out how.

Could it be...the Joker?

This last thought made his heart beat a few times quite painfully, but the drugs, which should have knocked him out, kept him under their control, even if he could fight back against sleep.

He didn't want to think about this! He didn't want to!

Oh, why couldn't Tim tell him only just a little....

 

And then, with a sudden blip, all the electricity went out.

He could feel his worry rise, and he could hear the nurses cursing and running up and down at the corridor, but....it seemed like a normal blackout. Which wasn't that abnormal with all the snowfall in the city.

Jason kept telling this to himself, as his pulse kept rising.

His only solace was the fact that he wasn't alone. He could see, through the open door, as the staff went into semi-emergency-mode, checking the patients, digging out flashlights, checking the machines around the beds, to see if they worked well with their batteries.

Lauren came to her too, but Jason was busy with his blurred thoughts to hear her kind questions and reassurances.   
Only when he realized that Lauren was pumping something into her IV, a thought occured to him.

'Call the police....call them...call them...Call them! Don't check the fuse boxes without cops! Please! Please! Listen! List....” his louder and louder hissing, almost on the verge of his horrible croaking, was cut off as the sedatives started to work.

 

 

 

 

Jason woke up to silence.

Horrible, deadly silence. Something was not right. But he couldn't figure out with his hazy brain what!

He only knew that he hated how the monitor next to him betrayed him with his stupid beeping. Somehow...yes..it was important that this beeping shouldn't be this way....

He had no idea why, but he started to take bigger breaths. It helped! It worked!

He kept taking huge gulps of air from the plastic mask in front of his face, and then he looked around again.

Something was definitely wrong. Everything was...so dark. The corridor was so...empty.

And then foggy memories of the electricity disappearing resurfaced in him.

Jason had to wait a bit for his brain to finally put together the picture. All that time his stomach was clenching into a tighter and tighter knot in him, but he couldn't understand why.

And then a question formed itself. A question, which made him loose his control over the beeping again.

Why was the hospital still without electricity?

It couldn't have been that...everybody was there to help....

 

Was it possible that everybody had escaped for some reason, and they had left Jason behind...?

 

He whined a bit, only a tiny bit, as much as he could, into the mask. What was going on?

 

The darkness was so...eerie without the noises of the nighttime staff's normal, controlled bustle.

Where could be the nurses??? Why wasn't anyone anywhere??

 

Steps. Slow, strange steps, not rhytmical at all. Somebody was coming, finally! No. They were...slowing down, then hurrying....

It didn't matter. Somebody was coming!! Jason wanted to see someone. He was nervous. He hated this emptiness.

 

„Well, well, well...finally! What do we have here? A lost birdie?! Oh, my, lucky me!!!”

 

No....no....no.....

Jason _felt_ his eyes widening to painfully open windows of terror, as he tried, tried so hard, to wake up.

This...could...not be true....No, no...

Please, no!! PLEASE!!

 

His heart became more and more painful, as the nightmare's giggling figure was nearing his bed.

He couldn't hear anything over the horrible weves of his own breathing....whoosh....whoosh...  
It was so loud!!! How could breathing be so loud??

 

He couldn't take off his eyes of the white face and the mad eyes. He was closer and closer, and Jason couldn't move.

He couldn't move!!

He couldn't escape!!!!

 

„Well, hello, Jason! Missed a good party? The party missed you!”

 

 

NO!!!!!!! PLEASE, NO!!!!!!

 

 

                                                                                                                 ***************

 

Tim leaned over the giggling girl. Harley didn't even mind his staff pushing into her collarbone.

„The Joker is still in Arkham” he growled, not letting the crazy female's trick getting to him.

„Oh, sweetie-batsie, you mean the guard we disguised as my lovely angel? Yeah, betcha, he still there, mumbling the little song I taught him during his...transformation....Nice little guy! Did his part well, right?”

Tim stared into the crazy crackles sparkling in her eyes, and a deeply unsettling feeling started to bloom in him.

„The Joker is still in Arkham!” he repeated, more vehemently.

„Whatever helps you sleep at night” hissed Harley, as the staff started to give way too much pressure to her bones.

„What was the plan?!” screamed Tim suddenly, lifting the staff, then pushing back into the bone again, mercilessly. It wasn't really a big damage to give her bruises......

Harley yelled in pain, then spat out.

„Fuck you! I was just having fun here! Why are so mean?!”

„You killed almost thirty people tonight! You are a murderer! Now tell me what the fuck the Joker plans!”

Harley had the nerve to shrug with her healthy shoulder.

„There was no plan! He just wanted to let us have fun. A big party for everyone. That's all!”

Tim growled.

„And then where is he? He is just missing out all the fun, he?!”

Harley hissed at him.

„He just made sure that after there was the exchange there would be a nice, big, loud crash and boom!”

Tim's blood froze at that. Joker planned the whole horror?!

„Oracle tell me, is everybody alright?!” he growled suddenly into the comm.

„Yes. Everyone is fine. Nightwing just finished checking the ruins of the last building. I think it's over” came the careful answer, as Oracle probably still checked monitor after monitor.

Tim didn't even answer, just stared down at Harley. Everybody was fine. The crazies, playing hide-n-seek, just spiced up with explosions, were caught. Most of the bombs had exploded during their fights, but the remainig ones were collected safely.

Everybody was here and fine.

He couldn't understand it.

Then a terrible fear flew through his heart like a spear.

He knocked out Harley cold, tied her up, then started running. One of the bikes of the police who had come to help parked in the next street.

Tim stole it without a second of hesitation.

 

„Oracle I need information about Gotham General! NOW!” he roared into the comm.

„Oh...I'm sorry, Red Robin...It seems there is a blackout too. Some of the building in that area totally lost electricity” said Oracle, her frown way too easy to be heard.

Tim didn't waste time to wonder about the blackouts anymore.

„Call the others! Send them there! It's the Joker!” he yelled with open terror in his voice, as he forced the bike to it's maxium speed. Then he broke the connection. It was just too much..Too much....

 

_I promised....._

 

 

_*****************_

Pain.....

Pain.....

Pain everywhere....

 

And death would not come......

 

Everything was...slow...and way too intense......Jason couldn't understand anything anymore around him.

The pain was too much. Fulfilling him, not leaving space for anything. For Jason.

 

Blood.....Red....So red.....

Was it something he could see? Or...feel?

 

He couldn't scream with his damaged vocal chords anymore. Not even croak, like earlier...He tried, but.....he ran out of power so easily....he couldn't do it anymore...

 

Pain........

And the rattling, gurgling sounds coming out from his throat.....

 

And laughter....

 

And the sickening, blunt sounds of hits reaching....something......

 

Pain.......

 

                                                                                                             ****************

 

Tim didn't plan to fuck up everything. But after grappling up onto the hospital's walls and finding Jason's room....all he could see was red.

Literally and figuratively.

Red was splashed and smeared onto the floor and the walls. Red painted the sheets. Red droplets were sliding down on the glass of the window, righ in front of a shocked, terrified Tim.

Joker was dancing in the room, around the bed, having the time of his life, apparently, laughing and mocking the...form....lying there.

Tim lost his mind when he saw the Joker lift his hand again, and in it, he was a shiny, red-covered crowbar.

 

He flew into the room like the angel of vengeance, kicking the lunatic trash through the room, covering the whole room in shards of glass.

He...couldn't turn to the...form on the bed.

And he almost felt relieved when the fucking murderer started to move, so he had to pay attention to him.

No.

He had to attack him.

He had to.

 

He had to let out all the terrible red flame which wanted to burn him from the inside out.

 

But Tim, as he kicked and hit and kicked the still moving, still fighting clown, realized a horrible mistake.

Fighting with the pathetic nobodies, who were just the distraction, with the explosives, at Crime Alley? It was a game, a nice exercise for him.

Fighting with the Joker, after weeks of sitting with Jason, not eating properly, not training at all and being exhausted by the others fights of the night already?

It was suicide......

He was almost knocked out by a blow hitting hís head. And then a hand gripped his neck, and started strangling him. Even with a dazzled brain, he could still think about one thing.

Jason didn't have a chance against the Joker without him....

Blind spots already filled his vision, when a horrible croak destroyed the moment around them.

 

„Ssstop!”

The Joker looked up with an amazed expression.

„Oh my! Look who started to speak, and all with a broken jaw! My bird!” he said with a maniac grin.

Jason shook with shock consuming his body's final energy, but opened his mouth again:

„You...are....running aoout......of....thime....”

The Joker's eyes widened at that.

„Oh really? I cannot see a clock anywhere, Reddie! Or should I say...Crippley? Oh, this must be a huge improvement for you this time!”

Laughter filled the air in the room, making Tim nauseated. He stared with the energy left in him to Jason, who stared back with something.....something new in his eyes. Something, which made Tim's stomach roll in his body.

„Hezz...never....without....supervi..vision....The others...will...come....Who....do..you....wan...wantto..play with....more?” Jason's voice became more and more tortured, more airy, but he continued:

„I am...your....biggest...joke.....but...you...couldn't finish it....ever!”

Tim fell to the floor in a heap, coughing, head dizzy with the sudden flow of air. The Joker stood over him, looking at Jason in the bed.

When Tim could finally look up, his heart almost stopped in his chest.

The Joker's face was a dark storm, promising terrible things with....otherwordy anger.

Jason's face was filled a challenging, hateful flame, and distance....distance from life itself. Tim couldn't remember when was the last time Jason's eyes looked so disturbingly green....They were shining with it this time.

„Pick one....You....can't have...two!” he spat out the words and blood.

The Joker didn't answer for a few minutes. Then he kicked Tim's head with unbelievable speed, without any warning, knocking the younger one out.

 

Tim woke up only a few seconds later actually. He could only guess it, but it was the Jokes's wellknown form, which was dragging him along....a hospital corridor. Tim's vision was blurry, his head hurt like a supernova was burning in it, he wanted to throw up, but the forms around told him, that he had to be still in the hospital.

And he had to fake being unconscious still.

 

He couldn't figure out ever in his life later, how the hell he caught with his eyes something white behind a corner of a corridor.

But the did. And he knew, with his shaken brain, that that kind of white meant something.

Then his body was hauled up, and shoved into somewhere small and dark....His heart was throbbing like a maniac machine, as hís body was pushed in, and he had no clue what was happening, he only knew he had to pretend, pretend, pretend, not betraying himself.

_Wasn't that what Jason always had called him...?_

And it wasn't anything else but pure Robin instinct and some animalistic, stubborn will to fight back, when all of his limbs shot out, as his body started to fall.

Smooth metal surrounded him, making it a fucking disaster to stop his fall. He slipped multiple times, his head hurt more and more each passing second, he wanted to scream out in fear, anger and worry, his soul howling for Jason....but at the end, with shaking arms and dying muscles, he started to climb.

He almost slipped again, when suddenly some light flooded into the small place, making his brain screech with pain, and he almost started to fight, when hands grabbed him and started to pull...

Then the next second, he landed on cold hospital floor, the blur of movement making him give it all up and throw up.

When his vision cleared a bit, he was still sitting on the floor, in front of the small metal door of the laundry-chute. Right in front of him stood two young, terrified nurses, shaking with fear. After staring at them dumbly for seconds, Tim realized that they were the new ones, who had come with Marjorie. Probably the ones who pulled him out. It was pure luck he had been so weak he hadn't been able to start a fight.....

„I'm fine” he mumbled to them, and staggered to his feet.

„Marjorie told us to help you....She went after....after... _him_ ” one of them whispered, her eyes so wide with fear, she looked like someone overdosed her with a nasty drug.

Tim wished to say something comforting, but then....his brain put together the meaning of her words, and his own eyes widened too. What?!

He stared back at the nurses, who looked in unison to the left: where the corridor turned, leading the way to their station, and after that....to Jason's room.

An almost unbearable urge filled Tim, his heart reacting to it, pumping blood and adrenaline into his whole being. He needed to go!

 

Tim turned around the corner in time to see Marjorie making a whole metallic shelf fall, a few meters away from the door of Jason's room.

Then the old heroic woman híd shockingly well in the shadows of another room's door.

 

Tim only had enough time to throw himself down onto the floor, fighting back a whimper, when the Joker reappeared on the corridor. Tim could only pray for the lunatic to be interested in the shelf enough to go there and not back where he was hiding.

 

Marjorie's plan worked. The Joker stepped closer to the shelf with suspicion.

So Tim started running as crazy suicidal inmate from Arkham right into his direction.

 

He saw the whole world in slow motion after that.

 

The shadowy corridor, the blur of the doors on both sides flying by, the Joker's back....and then Marjorie's form, reborning from the darkness.....a single point of light in the chaos....a syringe...

Tim's horrified eyes watched as Marjorie literally stabbed the Joker in the back with the syringe.

The man yelled, like a rabid animal, a high, rage-filled sound erupting from him, as he whirled around to the nurse.

 

He never had the chance to attack the woman.

Tim's whole momentum was pushed into a giant, lethal, precise attack. He **wanted** to hurt the crazy clown, he **wanted** to do harm.

Cracks of bones could be heard a second before the Joker flew back to a wall, hit it with amazing force, then....the whole chaos stopped its existence.

 

Tim panted as he looked around, stared at the nurse, at the shelf, the shadows in the corridor, then back at the Joker.

This couldn't be true....

 

He gasped in shock as the young nurses ran out of nowhere, from behind him, to the scene. But they didn't stop at Marjorie. They ran past her, straight to the Joker.

And both of them pulled out syringes, out of nowhere, and whatever they had with themselves, they injected it into the Joker's unmoving form too.

 

Tim couldn't understand what was happening. He turned to Marjorie to ask her, but she wasn't next to the young vigilante anymore.

 

He couldn't see her anywhere.

 

Then....

 

„Girls, bring back up Dr Collins and Stevenson too! NOW!!!!!” came a hellish scream from...Jason's room.

 

As the duo disappeared, who knows where, Tim's feet started to move on his own.

Again.

Closer...closer...closer...

 

Closer to that room, to the form in there.

Finally he could stare at the human being, who was in there.

Then his eyes figured out what was in front of him, and his knees hit the floor.

Tim's brain was giving it up. The whole world started to become more and more frayed, more and more of it disappearing, existence itself becoming smaller and smaller around him.

Or, more like, in front of him.

 

Marjorie's arms were red, up to her elbows, as he pumped Jason's chest with hellish, damned force, without hesitation, without any signs of thinking about stopping.

 

But Tim didn't need the few still intact monitors' crazy signs and lines around them to know why Jason's face was so white, why was he without any reaction to the world around him, why wasn't he moving at all.

 

Jason, after saving Tim's life, died in the hands of the Joker, in a room all alone, with his biggest fear.

 

 

 

 

 

Darkness crawled upon Tim, enveloping him, strangling him, destroying his mind.

 

But right before he fell, into the arms of who-the-fuck-cares-who, a shout, an angry lion's roar, stopped the darkness from killing him.

 

„He's back, I got him!!!!!!!”

 


End file.
